Let It Bleed
by DrawMeASheep
Summary: Tony and Ziva are kidnapped by bad guys Director Shepard has been chasing. Established Tiva. Follows my story Sleepwalker, which follows many other things.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: A fic without a denial of ownership is like a penguin without a gut full of sushi.

Spoilers: This story is a continuation of my Tiva series, details and order of which can be found in my profile, beginning with _Locked_. This follows immediately after _Sleepwalker_. The details of every preceding fic must be remembered, else nothing that follows will seem wondrous. Er…well, it won't make sense anyway.

Summary: Tony and Ziva get into trouble stateside – trouble related to things that have happened prior to the events in this fic. Bad guys and kidnapping and monkeys. No, there aren't any monkeys. Sorry if you got excited. There is established Tiva, so hopefully that makes up for the lack of monkeys.

Special Secret A/n: Please be patient regarding updates to this story, as I have a lot going on in real life right now, but if I don't have it posted, I'll never feel compelled to work on it. This secret note will self-destruct in five seconds.

* * *

Tony closed his eyes, as it was fairly disconcerting to watch Ziva in the mirror as she came up behind him with her knife, even if she _was_ wearing nothing but a short towel wrapped around her midsection. She paused a moment as she settled the edge of the knife against his skin. "Relax. You let me do this nearly every other day when your arm was broken."

He clenched his still-bandaged hands, not yet completely healed from his encounter with a plate glass door during the team's last case, as he felt the blade scrape around the curve of his jaw. Waiting until he was sure she had removed the knife to rinse off the hair and shaving cream, he opened his eyes and said, "Only because the electric doesn't get me as smooth as you like."

He squeezed his eyes shut as she came in for another pass. He had to admit that she was pretty good at this whole shaving him with her knife thing. He even enjoyed it on some level beyond the obvious pleasures associated with pampering – _manly_ pampering. Not even pampering, but…personal grooming services. There was nothing wrong with enjoying being shaved. Men used to go to the barber to get shaved all the time! And…and it was just hair, really. He didn't cut his own hair. Really, he could make the argument that this was a good idea to continue even after the cuts on his hands healed. Ziva seemed to like it too, though he didn't plan to ask her why.

He obediently tipped his head back when she pulled it against her stomach and went to work on his neck. She smelled like clean laundry; or was that just her towel? He risked opening his eyes to watch her as she worked. Her concentration was evident in her pursed lips and knitted brows. Tony fought the urge to smile. Her face relaxed as she did his upper lip with him still staring up at her. "What?"

He allowed her to finish before grabbing his towel off the counter and wiping his face. "Nothing. Just, uh, thanks."

"I should really do this at night, since that is when you are more likely to be dragging your face all over me."

His mind cleared in a flash as he grinned. "So I take it we have plans for tonight?"

"Tony…" She didn't continue, but walked out of the bathroom, not pausing even when he snatched her towel.

As much fun as it was to watch her walk away, he had to hurry through the rest of his routine if he wanted a little more mutual naked-time before they had to get to work. He kicked the stool he had been sitting on under the counter, awkwardly slapped on some stinging aftershave with his uninjured fingers and brushed his teeth before the noise of the hairdryer stopped carrying in from the bedroom. He tossed both the towel that he'd taken from her and the one wrapped around his own waist into the hamper and clicked the light off as he exited the bathroom. "Wait!"

She didn't even pause in hooking her bra behind her. "I need a break, Tony. We've been going at it nonstop for the past two days."

"So?" He nuzzled her neck as he came up behind her, preventing her from putting on any more clothing.

"So, I do not want to be on antibiotics for a week. And we need to get to work. Gibbs was not happy when we were late yesterday."

"Which was dumb, because you and Jenny were still supposed to be playing spy girls in Morocco." She ignored his roaming hands, although she didn't shove them away as he followed her to the closet. He decided on one last attempt before shifting to work-mode. "We could call in sick and spend the day…"

"No," she cut him off.

"But…"

"Tony!" She spun into him when she turned to face him, but didn't shove his hands away; the look she was giving him, however, was enough to ensure that they remained hovering over her ass rather than grabbing it. "I am not going anywhere, so you need to stop acting like every time we make love could be the last time!"

"I…" He dropped his head and arms as she stepped away from him. He hadn't really been thinking about it that way, not consciously. It would be hard to deny that the sex since she'd gotten home from Morocco had been unusually intense, but that was just because he'd missed her, not because… He finally found a response that was almost certain to start an argument but was unable to stop himself from saying, "With everything that's happened to you since we got together, can you blame me if sometimes I feel like you might not be here the next time I…?"

"The next time you feel horny?" she finished for him, not making eye contact as she buttoned her shirt.

"No!" He found he couldn't complete the thought. Yeah, the next time he wanted to have sex was the obvious conclusion, but what about the next time he wanted to watch a movie on the couch and cuddle? The next time he wanted to have a romantic dinner, either at home or at a restaurant? The next time he wanted to talk with her about nothing in particular or get her to smile or…walk past him, naked from the waist down as she was doing now. "Why do you do that? Act like the only thing I ever think about is sex?"

"Because I am sore." She winced as she pulled up what looked to be a loose pair of panties. "And you are following me around, naked."

"So if I were wearing clothes you wouldn't be claiming I'm just about sex all the time?"

"That is not what I said."

"But you think it's what's most important to me."

She picked up her pants off the bed. "That is not true."

He took a deep breath and said the only thing he could to save himself, "Is this something we should continue after I get dressed?"

Tony could smell something good and hear sizzling as he came downstairs a few minutes later, almost fully dressed. His instinct about deferring further conversation had clearly been the right one. Ziva raised an eyebrow at him across the counter. "Close enough."

He finished buttoning his shirt before tucking it in. "I know you aren't that mad if you're making sausage."

"It is turkey sausage, so it is not just for you."

He held back a frown as she slipped two eggs over easy onto a plate she passed to him. "Hm."

"Don't make a face at them. We're out of milk and you cannot make scrambled eggs without milk."

"Oh. Since when?"

"They don't come out fluffy enough and then you would complain about that. So just dip your toast in the yolk and eat your breakfast."

"I don't have any…" He jumped as the toaster gave a loud ding. "Oh." He accepted two suspiciously multi-grainish pieces of toast, slapping enough butter on them to prompt a grimace from Ziva. He grinned and asked, "Jelly?"

"I didn't mean to yell at you or imply that you only want sex from me, but, as I said, I'm a little sore."

"I…just asked for some jelly."

"Don't change the subject."

"We were talking about breakfast!" he protested, not sure he wanted to get back into what they had been talking about earlier just when things had calmed down.

"Tony…"

"I'm sorry. I just…you just went from having fun in the shower to mad at me and I don't know what I did, besides being so crazy about you that I can't keep my eyes or hands off you." He took a bite of sausage and spoke around it, "I can be happy without sex for awhile, if that's what you want."

"It isn't like that. I like sex. And I know it means something more with you, but…lately…" She sighed. "I would not call it desperation, but I thought you had accepted that it is possible that bad things could happen to either of us at any time."

"I still don't have to like it," he muttered, shoveling food into his mouth. He realized that it was probably a mistake to give her a chance to make more disquieting predictions about the potential for future disasters, so he again spoke with his mouth full, "Maybe we're thinking about this the wrong way."

She impressively was able to translate and asked, "And what is the right way?"

"Well…" He swallowed with a mighty effort as an idea came to him. "We could stop being terrified of the future and, uh, plan for it instead. Maybe we could…set a date? Y'know, for the wedding?"

Her fork paused halfway to her mouth. "Are you just saying that to prove something?"

"Hey, when I asked you to marry me it was always my intention to actually get married at some point, so…yeah. Let's figure out when we wanna do it so we can give your dad and Adi and Eyal and whoever else we wanna invite time to get here."

"When?"

He was saved from the spot he'd put himself on when his phone rang in his pocket. He held up a finger to indicate he needed a moment, checking the caller ID and immediately answering, "Gibbs, we're not even late yet!"

"Did I accuse you of being late?"

"No, but…"

"Then just find a pen and write down the address I'm gonna give you, DiNozzo. We've got a dead Naval officer."

"We always do, boss. I mean, uh, Ziva will headslap me as soon as I've written down the address?"

"That's better." He gave Tony time to write down the address he relayed before saying, "Twenty minutes."

"No problem," Tony replied to the dialtone. He turned back to Ziva. "Dead guy in Arlington. And don't make a joke about the cemetery, because that really pisses Gibbs off."

"I can imagine." She rolled her eyes and collected his plate just as he managed to scoop the last sausage into his mouth. "Shall we take my car or yours?"

"Yours…if I can drive."

"Didn't Gibbs say twenty minutes? In this traffic?"

"Fine, you drive."

Their conversation was light and easy as they made their way downstairs and out to Ziva's car. As he fell to the ground a moment later, stunned by something impacting the back of his head, Tony tried to remember a quip for later about how this would never have happened if she had allowed him to drive.


	2. Chapter 2

McGee grimaced as he photographed the body of Navy Lieutenant Commander Matthew Floyd – or who they assumed was Lt. Cmdr. Floyd. The dog tags were a dead giveaway, even when the face wasn't. He looked up when Sampson returned, still looking distinctly green. "You okay, George?"

Sampson seemed suspicious about being addressed by his first name. "Sorry. I just…this is even worse than last time, and last time was a dead naked girl who'd been thrown over a barbed wire fence. Am I going to get in trouble for using an evidence bag for…that?"

"Well, it was an empty bag. Better that than getting it somewhere out here that Gibbs could see."

"I didn't have a problem when we observed an autopsy during training. It wasn't like…well…"

McGee put a steadying hand on Sampson's shoulder. "You, um, you…don't get used to it, exactly, you just…"

"Stop having to excuse yourself to throw up without contaminating the scene?"

McGee looked down at the exploded mass that had once been Floyd's face. "Something like that. And we usually have a break between cases, but lately we've been really swamped. It'll get easier."

"I'm just glad DiNozzo wasn't here to see it."

"Yeah, that would…Tony probably wouldn't be very sympathetic."

"I thought you said he was going to get nicer."

Another look at the body restrained McGee's urge to smile. Tony's prank the previous day had been made even more convincing by the fact that Ziva had never been terribly concerned about which room she was walking into anyway. Sampson, being new to the building, didn't think it was strange to see her walking into what he'd thought was the men's room, especially since it was labeled as the women's room, courtesy of Tony, who removed the fake signage before Sampson had escaped from the high-pitched screaming in the actual women's room. McGee had to admit it was kind of funny, probably because it had happened to someone else. After the overly-sensitive women had been convinced that no sexual harassment claims needed to be filed and Sampson had delivered blushing apologies, Tony had even paid for lunch. "I think he's actually been pretty good, all things considered. He even got you a date with Cynthia."

"Which she hopefully won't cancel if she hears about what happened yesterday. Or just now."

"Oh, never fear, young Sampson," Ducky interrupted, placing his bag on the ground just outside the large blood pool. "There's no reason to think an honest mistake will be met with contempt and rejection. If anything, she will be shaking her head over Tony's antics, with which, I might remind you, most everyone in the agency has some familiarity."

"Are you sure, Dr. Mallard? She hasn't been at her desk when I've gone to see her. I think she may be avoiding me."

"She's been in MTAC with Director Shepard," McGee said, noting that Gibbs was angrily hanging up the phone he'd been shouting into for the past few minutes. Whatever was holding up Tony and Ziva was going to be a serious, escalating source of exasperation the longer it took them to arrive. Briefly wondering if the Director were somehow linked to Tony and Ziva's absence, he snapped a few more shots of Floyd's body before nodding to Ducky. "I'm all set."

"Very well. Let us see what caused the demise of this poor man."

A suggestion was half-muttered from a few feet away, "Exploding face syndrome?"

"Do grow up, Mr. Palmer! We do not need a fill-in for that aspect of Agent DiNozzo's responsibility."

McGee saw Sampson begin to twitch as Ducky turned the remains of the head and said, "Sammy, why don't you look into getting the security footage."

The nickname, which McGee found he quite enjoyed using, seemed to snap Sampson out of his nauseated trance. "What security footage?"

"There's an ATM just up the block that may have captured either Floyd or his attacker as he passed. See if you can get the tape. Then check with that gas station to see if they have an angle on the sidewalk."

Sampson gave him a grateful look just as Ducky exclaimed, "Ah! There we are!"

"At least _someone_ is here," Gibbs grumbled as he walked over. "Find anything?"

"Based on the damage to this man's face, the stippling around the rear entry wound and the pellet or two I can see lodged behind the frontal bone where the left orbital plate should be obstructing my line of sight, I believe he was shot from behind at very close range with a shotgun of some type."

"You sure?"

"With this sort of catastrophic damage, Jethro, I can be fairly certain, though that is just a preliminary analysis. Mr. Palmer, are you having much luck gathering the dispersed tissue?"

McGee didn't bother to look at the area of the sidewalk where Palmer was working with a pair of tweezers; he'd seen enough when he'd photographed it. He was glad Ducky had suggested Palmer handle that particular duty in the interest of collecting and identifying the various pieces, like the one he was now holding up. "Doctor, would you say this is part of the optic nerve?"

Ducky sighed. "Your eagerness is duly noted, Mr. Palmer, but please hurry so you can fetch the gurney. You'll have plenty of time to identify the samples once we have returned to NCIS."

"McGee!"

"I'm right here, boss."

"Did you talk to anyone yet?"

"No, I was…" he stopped, not wanting to mention that he had been busy photographing the scene and that someone else should have been available to look for witnesses. There was no reason to make Gibbs madder. "I was just about to. I asked Sampson to get the security footage from the ATM and the gas station…if that's all right?"

"Why the hell wouldn't it be, McGee?"

"Oh, I…"

McGee was saved from being the object of further venting when Gibbs flipped his ringing phone open, shouting, "What?" His demeanor changed after a few seconds of listening. "When? Yeah. Fine. What do _you_ think? Yeah, we'll turn it over to them as soon as they get here." He hung up and turned back to McGee. "Find Sampson and head over to Tony and Ziva's place. I'll meet you there as soon as Cassidy and her team get here to take over this investigation."

"Boss, what's wrong?"

Gibbs lowered his voice. "Neighbor up the block called Metro – said she saw two people get hit over the head and shoved into a car about half an hour ago. Description fits."

"Someone kidnapped Tony and Ziva?" McGee caught himself before adding, 'Again?'

"I don't know, but it sure as hell explains why they aren't here." Gibbs gave the impression that even this was not an acceptable excuse, but McGee had to wonder… "Why are you still standing here? Get over there and make sure Metro doesn't try to hang onto this one. Take the truck."

"What about my car?"

"Drive that, then, McGee, and have Sampson drive the truck. Can't you resolve these issues yourself?"

McGee decided not to take it personally as Gibbs stormed toward Ducky and Palmer. Taking a few quick strides up the block, he shouted, "Sampson!"

Sampson broke into a run from the door he had just exited. "I got the ATM footage from the bank manager, but I haven't had a chance to go to…"

"Don't worry about it. We need to handle something else."

"But I…"

"Come on!"

"What's going on?"

"We're turning this case over to another NCIS team. It looks like Tony and Ziva have been kidnapped."

"Kidnapped?"

McGee regretted not having asked Gibbs how much Sampson was allowed to know about the events that had occurred in the past year and a half involving Moussad and Dmitri Tushkevich, among others. He said only, "We aren't sure yet, but we need to leave now."

"Are we in danger?"

"Why would we be…"

"Well, not me, I guess, because I haven't been working cases with you very long, but is this some kind of…revenge thing?"

"No, it's just…look, Sampson, a lot has happened in the past year or so and almost all of it is classified and…this isn't really something we can read you into in the field. We don't even know what we're dealing with yet, so just try to treat this like you would any other crime scene, with professional detachment and… "

"Is there some reason you two are still here?" Gibbs suddenly shouted, interrupting McGee's pep talk, which he realized had been as much for himself as it had for Sampson.

"We're gone, boss!"

As McGee sprinted toward his car, he heard Gibbs shout again, "And there better not still be a bag of vomit in the back of the truck when I get there!"


	3. Chapter 3

Annoyed as Jenny was to be pulled away from MTAC, where she could be sure to know the moment something occurred in Tripoli where the team of Moussad and NCIS agents and Marines was currently tracking the terrorist Safad, she had a feeling this development was connected. It had to be. Why else would someone kidnap Ziva now? And Tony, too, most likely to keep Ziva from fighting back too strenuously. If anyone but Safad wanted to kidnap her, she hadn't exactly been hiding in DC – her presence had been aired for the world to see during the panda incident, even. This was obviously related to their, Jenny and Ziva's, recent mission to Marrakech to interrogate Safad's partner, Sahrawi.

The trip had whetted rather than dulled Jenny's appetite for vengeance. She hadn't mentioned it to anyone, although she was certain Ziva already knew. Ziva. The lack of support hadn't bothered Jenny until she'd had time to reflect on it. Still, siding with Maj. Miner and Officer Arad, refusing to spend a few days tracking Safad after the interrogation had ended… Once they had returned to DC, it had taken only an hour or so in MTAC for Jenny to stop feeling bad about punching Ziva when she'd tried to force her, Jenny, back onto the plane in Tripoli.

Jenny wouldn't allow herself to be forced into anything this time around. This was going to be on her terms. God help Safad's cronies if they came after her. Or maybe she would go without a fight in order to get to their boss. Or maybe the bastard would come to get her himself. It could even happen now, considering she was out of the building and highly visible. She frowned at her driver in the front seat. She could always agree to go without a fight if they promised not to harm Dennis. She would have to make sure that he was safely in the trunk before they left, but… "We're here, ma'am."

"Thank you, Dennis. Wait here."

"Are you sure?"

"I think there are enough Metro cops around to…keep the scene secure." She stepped out of the car and strode confidently toward Ziva's car, which had been roped off with crime scene tape. "Who's in charge here?"

An obese man in an ill-fitting suit demanded, "Who wants to know?"

"Director Jennifer Shepard, NCIS. We have reason to believe two of our agents were abducted."

"Oh? And where would you have gotten that idea?"

"From the sheriff. Would you like to give him a call to confirm that, Det. Bulky?"

"It's Det. Bukowski," he grumbled.

"I must have misheard," Jenny replied with artificial sweetness as she saw the MCRT truck pull up to the curb. "Now, if you don't mind…my people are here, so if you could move yours beyond the tape. Yeah."

She crossed her arms as the Metro forensics team slowly packed the gear they had not yet begun to use. That was a good sign; the last thing she wanted while trying to catch a dangerous terrorist was Metro interfering as a result of unintended collaboration. Glancing over the yellow tape, she could make out a small streak of blood, probably nothing to be that concerned about. Safad wouldn't have harmed his hostages too grievously if he expected to deal with her. At the very least, she would find him before they were seriously injured. Even if Lavoie had been killed within hours of their capture…

Jenny swallowed hard at the unexpected memory of Cairo. If he thought he was going to get away from her, he certainly had another thing coming.

McGee suddenly interrupted her thoughts, "Director, we didn't know you'd be here."

"Two of my agents with a history of going missing have gone missing again. I think it's important that I be here to monitor the situation, in case it develops into something more."

"So you know what this is about?"

"I have a pretty good idea." She leaned away from McGee's confidential closeness. "Get a sample of the blood on the pavement, there."

As he was snapping on a pair of gloves, he remarked, "Funny how it's always Tony and Ziva getting into these things. Well, Ziva mostly. Do you think we'll find them before she needs another long hospital stay?"

"Is there some reason you're making jokes instead of doing your job, Agent McGee?"

"Oh, I didn't…I would never…if I really thought…"

She waved her hand to cut him off. "We don't even know exactly what we're dealing with yet. I do have my suspicions, but that's all they are at this point. This could have occurred for reasons we haven't considered yet."

"Really?"

"Anything is possible." She nodded to Agent Sampson as he approached, carrying several bags. "I think you two can handle this. I'm going to talk to the witness who called 911."

"Um, Gibbs is…"

"Waiting for Agent Cassidy, I know. I haven't been Director so long that I can't perform interviews, McGee." Walking away before he could respond, she made her way across the street where Det. Bukowski appeared to be intimidating the witness.

"…and if these feds try to push you around, you can call me at this number."

"And why would we want to do anything but cooperate with the only person who saw our agents kidnapped?" As Bukowski lumbered off, Jenny put on her most practiced political smile. "Mrs. Carr, I'm Director Jennifer Shepard of NCIS. I know you spoke with Metro already, but we'll need a new statement."

By the time Gibbs arrived to glare at her interference, she had confirmed that Tony and Ziva were definitely the victims and that they had been attacked by men who were possibly Middle Eastern. "You may get your wish and find out something about why Ziva and I had to take that trip last week."

"You think this is connected?"

"I think it's a damn good place to start."

"Whatever you say, Jen."

"Do you have a better suggestion, Agent Gibbs?" she replied, careful to emphasize that they would be using titles for the moment.

"Just that we shouldn't make assumptions about who did this until we get some real evidence."

She waited until he had turned to walk away before saying, "Maybe your gut doesn't have the right information to process this one."

"Maybe that's because you won't tell us anything about it. Someone knocked out DiNozzo and David and shoved them into the trunk of a car. This isn't some personal case that only concerns you."

She allowed him to walk away with the last word this time.

* * *

Ziva opened her eyes without meaning to do so. No use pretending she was still unconscious now. Ignoring the pain in her head, she performed a quick assessment and found that she was tied to a chair in a darkened room in which any possible identifying features, including the floor and all four walls, had been covered by assorted, nondescript sheets. The only thing she could really judge was the time of day – sometime between sunrise and sunset if the light filtering through some of the sheets were to be believed. A room with bay windows was not helpful unless she could first free herself from her current situation.

She frowned as she tried to work her wrists against the ropes binding her. There was only one other person in the room with her. Tipping her head back, she discovered that it rested almost comfortably in the crook of Tony's neck. After a quick inhalation to confirm that she wasn't imagining being tied back to back with him, she whispered, "Are you okay?" When he didn't respond, she raised her voice slightly. "Hey, Tony!"

"Mmngnn."

"Don't give me _that_ noise. I know you are not hungover."

He groaned again. "Then why's my head feel like this? And why can't I remember going to work? I can't believe we had a case so bad I had to get this drunk."

"Tony, focus. You are tied up."

"I assumed that was because you're mad at me for getting drunk. Did I throw up out the car window again?"

"You did not drink anything. I believe we were attacked on our way to a scene in Arlington. Do you remember getting a call from Gibbs this morning?"

"Yeah. He didn't yell at me for being late. I remember we went out to the car and you were gonna drive, then…"

"I recall turning and seeing someone with a raised club, but not a face. I believe we have been gone less than six hours."

"How can you be sure?"

"It is still daylight." She twisted her head to an uncomfortable angle, managing to rub her nose against his neck. "And I shaved you this morning and you do not have any stubble yet."

"Makes sense." He turned his head and their eyes met. "You're bleeding."

"Where?"

"On your forehead. Left side. It looks like it's mostly dried, but…"

She tried to raise her eyebrow and felt the stiff stickiness of the area, along with a brief shooting pain. Performing a quick assessment of all the areas of his head and face that she could see, she was comforted to find the Tony didn't seem to be bleeding. "Don't worry about it."

"Hm. Any idea where we are?"

"None."

"Just so we're clear, this isn't fun tie-up time, right?"

"Why would I have tied myself up?"

"Hey, someone hit me over the head, apparently. I don't have to be thinking too clearly at the moment."

"This is quite possibly the best moment for us to be thinking clearly." She took his silence to mean he was taking her advice to heart. She looked around the room again, trying to find anything that could help. They needed to figure out where they were, who had captured them and how to get away, although not necessarily in that order. The windows would be the best escape route, considering they didn't know what and who was inside the building outside of this room – or even where the door was, by virtue of the sheets covering everything. It would be more practical to make a break for the window the moment they freed themselves. Hopefully, they weren't higher than a second story.

"Ziva?"

She turned her head to look at Tony as best she could. "Any ideas?"

"No. I was just wondering, why do people keep kidnapping us?"

"This has only happened once before."

"What are you talking about? We were taken hostage when we went undercover as assassins, we were locked in a shipping container and almost killed that other time, and let's not forget when Moussad fake-kidnapped us, which led to Tushkevich actually kidnapping us. Why can't someone kidnap McGee for once? It'd give him something new for his McNovel."

She had the feeling that he could go on and on, but a noise somewhere outside the room caused her to shush him. "I think someone is coming." Straining against her bonds again, she realized she was not going to be able to work them loose for some time. "I suggest we find out what they want from us."

"Your ropes are that tight too?"

"We did not want you escaping." Ziva's head snapped around as a man appeared between a gap in two of the sheets. He was able to pull the sheets together before she had seen anything but a dark wooden door. She maintained her silence as he walked slowly around the room with a confident smile, rolling up the sleeves of his dark shirt. "After all the trouble you gave your husband, I had thought you would be more difficult to take, Officer David."

"Dmitri was not…" Feeling Tony tense behind her, she didn't say the next words, instead finishing with the neutral statement, "That was a merely clerical complication." She forced the unpleasant memories out of her mind so she could face their captor fiercely. "What do you want with us, Safad?"

"I'm pleased you recognize me. I know we never had a chance to meet until now, though I'm sure you will find it interesting to know that my old friend Ari so wanted to introduce me to his little sister. I don't think even he suspected you were cold-blooded enough to kill him, but…I suppose…well." He retrieved a black case from behind one of the sheets near the door and set it on a large covered desk or table. "He was very loyal."

"Is this guy being ironic?" Tony asked in a stage-whisper.

Safad paused in whatever he was doing behind the open lid of the case. "How rude of me not to introduce myself, Agent DiNozzo. Faiz Safad. I am sure that you have heard of me."

"Yeah. You played the convenience store clerk in that movie with the vampire-zombies, right?"

Ziva tried to twist her body around somehow to protect Tony from a hit that never came. When she realized there was no reason to continue straining against the ropes, at least for the moment, she said, "He does not know anything about you."

"That is comforting. For a moment I was afraid we'd hit him as hard as we hit you." Safad moved back to the case, about which Ziva was starting to have a very bad feeling. "Fortunately for him, we are hoping a trade can be arranged. In exchange for the release of my compatriot Sahrawi, NCIS will receive their agent back, completely unharmed."

"What about Ziva?" Tony asked.

"That will be up to Moussad. Of course, when they refuse to negotiate, we have an acceptable compromise planned." Safad leaned into Ziva's face. "Perhaps I should turn you around sometime in the next few hours so you can enjoy your last few glimpses of your beloved?"

She could feel her own chair bouncing as Tony began actively exerting himself. "If you hurt her, I swear to God…"

"You'll what? Glare at me from the chair you're securely tied to?"

She cut off Safad's incredulous guffaw with a quiet assertion. "You should just kill me now if that is your plan."

Tony pulled even harder. "Ziva!"

"I am not the one who wants you dead, David, although I will not mourn the death of someone such as yourself who has done so much damage to the world and made life so difficult for so many."

"Yeah, not like an innocent terrorist like you."

"Hold your tongue, DiNozzo, if you do not want me to change my mind about returning you unharmed." Ziva flinched slightly as Safad pulled something out of the case, but when he opened his hand he revealed only a small webcam, which he set on the table beside the case. "Shall we contact NCIS and let the games begin?"


	4. Chapter 4

Tony gnawed on the gag Safad hadn't bothered to remove after he had finished filming their kidnapped short. It had been standard fare, with Ziva being allowed to say only that they were unhurt while Safad went on and on about his demands, both for NCIS and Moussad, while walking back and forth in front of a stationary camera that was focused at the head level of the people tied to chairs, meaning whoever had to watch the thing was going to get a extended scene of a mouthy, pacing torso. All a little artsy and pretentious for Tony's tastes. He suspected the lack of concern with production values wasn't going to be of much concern when Gibbs saw it, but who knew what Safad was planning to do with it? The guy seemed pretty intent on getting his buddy back, maybe to the point of shopping a ransom video around to the major TV networks when Jenny gave him the standard line about how the US didn't negotiate with terrorists.

He sighed and tipped his head back onto Ziva's shoulder. At least Safad had cleaned up her head wound before putting her on camera. "Hhowa eee?"

"What?" she replied clearly, having behaved well enough that she hadn't been gagged.

He started to talk, wondering if any of his monologue about how the tape would have come out better with improved lighting and a tighter script was getting through until Safad pulled that gag down. "What are you saying?"

Tony worked his jaw for a moment before replying, "Nothing important, unless you're planning to enter your short film at Cannes or something like that. Then I'd recommend…"

"Does he enjoy being gagged?" Safad asked Ziva, cutting Tony off.

"He will likely talk more if you leave it in his mouth."

"I can be very annoying," he added. He felt a hard bump where Ziva suddenly struck the back of his head with hers. "What? You're gonna lie to our kidnapper and say it's not true?"

"I believe she was asking you to shut up and stop antagonizing your kidnapper." Safad seemed to contemplate replacing the gag, but instead turned back to the computer. He was taking his sweet time with it. Tony was hoping he sent it soon; the sooner NCIS got it, the sooner McGee could start tracking the email or whatever back to where they were being held. Safad suddenly made a noise and held up a CD. "Hopefully, your colleagues will enjoy this."

"Yeah, you should go to the Navy Yard and drop that off," Tony suggested. So much for McGeek saving the day. Gibbs could always interrogate something out of the delivery man, but… "Make sure you give them your name."

Safad gave him an unsettling grin. "When I spoke with Ziva's husband when he had captured you, he told me that he would be doing me a favor if he shot you and saved us the trouble." He moved in a wide circle, out of Tony's line of sight. "He doesn't like it."

Tony could imagine Ziva's expression from her sarcastic tone. "Being threatened with death?"

"Hearing me call Tushkevich your husband."

"Like I told you…"

"Yes, you mentioned a meaningless marriage. Full of meaningless sex?"

Tony wasn't sure if his current tension were a result of the unpleasant reminder of Ziva's time with Tushkevich or the fact that he could feel her stiffness against his back. He tried to lean into her to lend some support as she said, "Upset because you and Sahrawi were not able to purchase nuclear weapons from Dmitri? He really talked a lot once we convinced him that it was a good idea."

"When you tortured and interrogated him?" Safad shouted. Tony could tell he was leaning into Ziva's face when he continued a moment later in a calmer tone, "You should be thankful that I am more civilized than you people – or, at least, that I have become so. While I arrange the delivery of this disc, I have another that you may find enlightening. I had originally suspected that you were so eager to destroy our operation in Cairo because you knew about this particular incident, but Ari assured me…well, you will see the…" He suddenly switched to another language when another man stepped into the room. He left a moment later without clarifying anything he had said.

Tony turned his head and asked Ziva, "What was he going on about? What'd you do in Cairo?"

"It was years ago. We were observing him and Sahrawi – that is the man we were interrogating in Morocco. We'd had some intel that they were preparing a major attack and…"

"Who's we?"

"Moussad and NCIS. Jen and her partner were captured. He died, she was held captive for a few days until we were able to mount a rescue. Safad and Sahrawi escaped."

Tony was tempted to ask for more details, but Ziva's curtness was dissuading him. Of course, he could still hear Safad conversing somewhere outside the room. Dropping his voice to the softest whisper he could manage, he asked, "What about Ari?"

"I knew that they had had some contact. I do not know what occurred prior to the Cairo mission that Safad mentioned. Before that he was just a name on a list."

"You guys keep lists?"

"Sshh. I can barely hear them as it is."

Tony tilted his head, attempting a modified forehead and cheek snuggle until the voices faded away. "Well?"

"The disc is being dropped off at a hotel – the Mandarin Oriental."

"Nice."

"I did not hear a name, only a room number. It will not help us if we remain tied up."

He jerked his wrists, but he didn't feel any give in the ropes. "I don't suppose they let you keep your knife."

"I have dealt with enough government-sponsored murderers to be cautious about such contingencies," Safad interrupted, brushing a sheet back as he stepped back into the room. "The information I have available indicates that you are a fan of the cinema, Agent DiNozzo. You should recognize at least two of the stars of this feature."

Again feeling Ziva's tension, Tony didn't ask for any translations as video played out on the laptop screen Safad angled toward them before leaving the room again.

* * *

Ziva could feel her fingernails digging into her palms. Closing her eyes saved her from seeing the images, but there was nothing she could do to block out the painfully familiar voices speaking in Arabic.

"State your name."

"You know who I am, Haswari." She felt unexpected pride in the fact that Jacob's soft, deep voice never wavered.

"I have no interest in reliving the few instances in which I have been forced to interact with you. State your name."

She opened her eyes momentarily when a yelp came from the tinny speakers just before the now-bleeding man kneeling on the dirt floor of an unfurnished room gasped, "Officer Jacob Keinan."

"And why are you here, Officer Jacob Keinan?"

"Fuck you."

Ari laughed in a disconcertingly familiar way. "Hopefully you got enough of that from Ziva before Abraham decided your skills would be best served in Ramallah."

"You should talk to your sister more often. Ziva broke up with me months ago."

"Good for her. Did she make that decision on her own or were you stupid enough to cheat on her?" She was unable to stop herself from watching Ari circle Jacob. "No, if you were that stupid you would never have lived to be captured by us. Don't feel bad; she is much too good for you."

"Like you give a damn about her."

Jacob went down as Ari struck him. "It is not her fault that she has been brainwashed. Your fate has already been decided, Officer Keinan, so I suggest you make your remaining minutes easier. Why are you here?"

"I can't wait until they find out you're a traitor, you bastard."

"He isn't going to tell us anything useful," Ari hissed. "Don't worry. I'll make sure my sister gives your family something to bury."

Ziva squeezed her eyes shut when a younger Safad stepped into the shot, brandishing a saif. A swish and a thud preceded Tony's gasp. When she opened her eyes, the image was frozen as Safad reached down to grasp Jacob's head by the hair. Turning away, she waited until she was sure there would be no tears she couldn't brush away to tentatively ask, "Tony?"

He didn't reply until she met his gaze at an odd, peripheral angle. "Did you know that guy on the tape?"

Glad he didn't speak Arabic, she asked, "Do you remember a case we had – we found a man's head in a car's trunk and I told you…?"

"They mailed you the…_his_ head. I remember." He was quiet for a moment. "Ari was…what was he asking?"

"Does it matter?"

"And the guy with the sword was…"

"Don't worry, Agent DiNozzo," Safad said with a chuckle as he reentered the room, "I have no intention of beheading you. As for what Ari was saying to Ziva's ex-boyfriend…" She refused to meet his eyes as he leaned toward her with an infuriating smile. "Was that true? Had you ended your involvement with him at that point?"

"Yes."

"Do you really think you should be showing her things that will piss her off _more_ at this point?" Tony asked, saving her the trouble of articulating her rage. She had never known that Ari had been responsible for her receiving the package with… It took more effort to hold back the tears this time. She hadn't really known what Ari had really deserved when she had killed him. For the first time, her doubts and guilt were fully replaced by a feeling that it had been too easy. If circumstances allowed, Safad would not be so lucky. She doubled her effort as she strained her wrists against the ropes binding them, not sure if the moisture she felt was sweat or blood – lubrication could only help.


	5. Chapter 5

Gibbs punched his keyboard with his index fingers, not expecting the keys he hit to produce useful effects on his screen. He didn't have any information to access, anyway. Picking up his coffee cup, he discovered that a walk outside would be just the thing to clear his head. Tempted as he was to blame Tony and Ziva for allowing themselves to be kidnapped, another coffee would likely lead him to the conclusion that it wasn't entirely their fault. Not entirely.

"I'll be back in five," he announced as he walked out of the bullpen, drawing no comments from either of the team members present, not even after the elevator doors had closed. He snapped his cell phone shut. There was no reason to monitor the situation via speakerphone during the short interval he'd be gone and McGee and Sampson technically had every right to say things they may not want him to hear. Or, more likely, if Sampson wanted to hear long, complicated stories above and beyond the official briefing he'd gotten about what had happened to possibly lead to Tony and Ziva's current misadventure, McGee was the professional novelist. Gibbs had no desire to go through it all over again.

He wasn't even convinced that previous events were linked – or he hadn't been given all the information that would convince him there was a clear link. Even given the circumstances, Jen had not yet shared information of any value. She had made it clear during their briefing that whatever had happened in Morocco, regardless of its potential importance to finding Tony and Ziva, was not going to be discussed unless it became unavoidable. Gibbs had not yet gotten to a point where he felt calm enough to go back to MTAC and yell at her.

He nodded to the young girl behind the counter as he stepped into DC Blend and she immediately sprang into action with a bright smile. "Third cup already, huh? Must be a tough one." She kept up her chatter even without any encouragement, "I think we're the only shop in the area still turning a profit. No matter what happens, we can always count on you, right, Agent Gibbs?"

He smiled in spite of himself. "I…y'know, gimme two more."

"Well, I didn't mean to make you feel guilty, like you're the only one keeping us open!"

"No. I'm just…" He handed over his money without completing the thought. He didn't need to tell the friendly coffee girl that it was the kind of day that they whole team needed a lift. McGee and Sampson had done their jobs at the crime scene – at both crime scenes, in fact – under difficult conditions and there was no reason he shouldn't bring them something. _They_ weren't giving him any less than their best.

Evading further unwanted banter with the coffee girl, he walked out with his cardboard tray in one hand, phone in the other. He hadn't somehow missed an important call, so there hadn't been any headway in the past few minutes. Major breakthroughs entailed a phone call; minor breakthroughs involved cowering and apologies that they weren't major breakthroughs. He sighed and picked up a Caf-Pow on his way back from the coffee shop.

Music was conspicuously absent when he arrived in Abby's lab. He set the large plastic cup on the central workstation without saying hello. He set his tray of coffees down a moment later when he'd had time to become concerned about her trembling lip. She suddenly launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck in an embrace that made him happy he'd known her long enough to always inhale before she attained maximum constriction. "They're gonna be fine, Abby."

"How do you know that?"

"They've been fine the past few times."

"Fine?" She exploded away from him, flailing her arms as she began to pace. "Tony and Ziva have been kidnapped by mystery goons, and Ziva may already be bleeding, which is not a good sign, given how many times I've visited her in the hospital. Not that I mind going to the hospital when my friends are there, but I'm sure you understand that it's much nicer when they just stop by my lab and…" Gibbs inhaled again and Abby said directly into his ear, "Bring them back."

He waited until he could breathe again to say, "We're workin' on it. Why did you say Ziva's already bleeding?"

"The sample on the pavement matched her blood type, but it's too early for DNA, so I can't be sure yet. There wasn't really much else to go on from the scene, but I thought I could look at the traffic cameras around their apartment to try and track the car the witness described. Maybe we can get the license plate and an idea of which direction they went."

"That's good work, Abs. Let me know…"

"The second I have something, you will know about it. Maybe not the same second, depending on how long it takes me to dial and how long it takes you to answer your phone, unless you use your magic and appear…"

He picked up his tray of coffees and made his way out of the room before she finished. Only slightly later than discovering the secret to surviving one of Abby's hugs had Gibbs discovered that she would keep talking if you kept standing there. Her idea about the traffic cameras was a good one and he needed her on that.

"McGee! Sampson! Here!" he called gruffly as he reentered the bullpen.

McGee accepted the tray Gibbs thrust toward him. "Thanks, boss." Sampson accepted a cup with some alarm and Gibbs was almost sure McGee whispered something about it not being poisoned. Sampson ducked behind the partition where his desk was located, still apparently unsure about the coffee.

They were going to have to rearrange the bullpen soon to fix that, but for now…. "Sampson, park your ass somewhere that I can see you."

He watched as Sampson tentatively moved toward Ziva's desk, then toward Tony's. McGee eventually stood and guided him toward Ziva's. "What should I…"

"You two have any thoughts about finding them?" Gibbs ended up waving his hand toward only Tony's desk, as Sampson was now in Ziva's chair, being careful not to touch anything.

"Don't you think someone will be contacting us soon?"

"Well, I'm sure Tony and Ziva would be happy to hear you're just planning to sit here until someone calls us with ransom demands, McGee."

"I just meant…we'll be able to trace a call or an email or however they choose to contact us and that will give us a solid lead to help us…"

"Abby is looking through footage from traffic cameras."

McGee pouted slightly behind his coffee cup. "Doesn't seem like a very efficient way to…" He looked up. "Well, with only one person. Should Sampson and I…"

"Gibbs!"

He discovered he still wasn't ready to have a composed conversation as he looked up at the catwalk. "Yes, Director?"

"There's a man trying to come through security downstairs. Go get him and bring him to my office."

Although he was tempted to suggest that perhaps one of the agents downstairs should handle escort duties, he didn't trust himself to say it without profane modifiers. He stood without replying, clipped his weapon to his belt and walked toward the elevator. Somewhere above him, Jen added, "McGee, you and Sanders go with him."

That was enough. Gibbs turned and looked up. "His name is Sampson."

She narrowed her eyes as she looked down. "Fine. I'm more concerned about the name of the man downstairs."

"Which is?" Gibbs knew she had heard him, even though she had already walked away. He stepped into the elevator, followed by what was left of his team. They were smart enough not to speak.

A graying, older man stood just outside the metal detectors in the lobby when they arrived. He was arguing with the security guard, "You must let me through. I have important information that I must give directly to Director Shepard."

"Sir, you have to wait until…"

"What's going on here?" Gibbs interrupted.

"Agent Gibbs, this man is insisting that…"

"You are Gibbs?"

Playing a hunch based on the man's accent, he replied, "Da."

"Then you know who I am?"

"Oh, yeah," Gibbs lied. "You can introduce yourself to these two on our way up to the Director's office." He waved the man through, noting that the metal detector didn't go off.

After two jerks of his head, McGee got Gibbs' hint and said, "I'm Agent McGee and this is Agent Sampson, Mr…?"

"Nozdryov. Alexander Nozdryov."

"Nice to…meet you."

From McGee's reaction, Gibbs understood that he had recognized the name as well. The situation was even worse than he'd feared if this man were really Dmitri Tushkevich's father.


	6. Chapter 6

McGee wanted to act like he had been in the Director's office many times, which he had – well, not _many_ times, but a fair few – in order to preserve the façade of a confident, experienced agent that he was trying very hard to maintain in front of Sampson. Not that he wasn't really a confident, experienced agent, just that… Sampson didn't know all the details about Tushkevich, so of course he didn't have any reason to be worried about the fact that Tushkevich's father was now sitting on the couch in Director Shepard's office, sipping the vodka he'd poured himself upon entering.

The Director herself was apparently intending on being fashionably late, as she had not yet appeared in her own office after ordering them to retrieve Nozdryov from the lobby. If she were trying to make him sweat, she would have to adjust the thermostat. McGee attempted to adjust his cynicism; Director Shepard could be in MTAC gathering intelligence that this was, in fact, Alexander Nozdryov. He had insisted through the entire trip upstairs that he had been instructed not to share the information he'd been given with anyone other than the Director, so it was possible…

McGee wished he hadn't left his unexpected coffee on his desk in the bullpen. Gibbs, naturally, had brought his large cup down then upstairs. Sampson had his as well, but had neglected to bring his weapon. McGee wouldn't have minded the trade-off right now. His hand automatically jumped to it when the office door crashed open, which turned out to be the best case scenario; Sampson dropped his coffee on the rug, creating a large stain the Director didn't seem to notice.

Her eyes were fixed on the man sitting on her sofa as she crossed the room, trailed by Cynthia, who was trying to hand her a file folder. "How the hell did you get into the country?"

Nozdryov stood and extended the hand not holding his glass. "Director Shepard. I thank you for having the courtesy to have my son's body delivered to me for burial. It is not something I suspect many other agencies would have done."

"You didn't travel to DC from Argentina just to thank me for getting Dmitri Tushkevich out of our lives forever."

"No, you are correct. Before getting to business though, I thought it polite to mention my gratitude."

McGee started to wonder if Director Shepard had a weapon of her own under her blazer as she stared Nozdryov down with her hands on her hips. "I'm not interested in your gratitude."

"Very well." Nozdryov finished his drink and set the glass on the coffee table before removing a CD in a case from his coat pocket. "I had thought my life would again be peaceful without Dmitri in it, a terrible thing to say about one's own son…"

"But you're forgetting we knew him," Gibbs muttered at a volume McGee was fairly certain made him the only hearer.

Nozdryov didn't acknowledge it, continuing, "Last week, I was contacted at my home by a man who claimed to have had a business deal with my late son. He seemed to believe that, as Dmitri had been unable to fulfill his obligation, the responsibility should pass to me. Threats were made and I decided the best course of action would be to go along with what this man demanded."

"What kind of threats?" Director Shepard asked haughtily, examining the silver disc she had snatched from his hands. "I was under the impression you had the firepower to handle men your reputation didn't frighten out of threatening you."

"I am getting old, Director Shepard. I do not have much energy to fight anymore."

"Well, forgive me if I don't believe that you're here to help us because some big, bad man scared you."

"I never said that I am going to help you. I am merely delivering information, as ordered."

"We've already got a good idea of who we're dealing with."

"May I ask with whom you think you are dealing?"

"Faiz Safad," she answered with no hesitation. McGee found it odd that this was the first time they were hearing the name if Director Shepard was so confident that she knew who had taken Tony and Ziva.

Nozdryov smiled. "Very insightful, Director. As you know who he is, I am sure you can imagine the types of threats he used to convince me to agree to aid him in this exploit. From the things he has told me, I believe his main objective is to ensure the release of his friend."

"Oh, I don't think so."

"How did you get that disc?" Gibbs asked, finally setting Nozdryov up to say something McGee thought might help.

"It was delivered to me at my hotel. I arrived three days ago with the instruction to wait in my room until I was contacted and given further instructions, which finally occurred just under forty minutes ago."

"Which hotel?"

"The Mandarin Oriental." Nozdryov appeared to be getting bored with the conversation now that Gibbs was asking pointed questions and picked up his glass, brushing past McGee as he moved toward the bar.

Gibbs abruptly barked, "McGee! Take Sampson and…"

"Mandarin Oriental, boss," he finished, already making a beeline for the door. It would be nice to actually being doing something instead of just…

"Hold on, Agent McGee."

"You think this Safad guy is gonna be very patient, Jen? We need to find our people ASAP."

"And I agree, Agent Gibbs. I just think it may be smarter to get all the information Mr. Nozdryov has to offer before we start running around like chickens with our heads cut off."

McGee drew back to where Sampson was lurking in the corner with Cynthia, heads buried in the file she had been trying to hand to the Director. Only Nozdryov seemed unaware that it was advisable to be as far away as possible if Gibbs and the Director were going to have it out. He remarked, "If you are going to my hotel, perhaps you could take me back there. If I am not back within ninety minutes of my departure, one of my favorite, heh, maids will be executed."

"Fine," the Director said. "We'll come with you and talk there. Or we'll just hang onto you in one of our interrogation rooms. Gibbs, before you leave for the hotel, would you take our guest downstairs?"

Nozdryov appeared unmoved from the angle McGee was watching him, but his voice trembled as he replied, "Director, if I have been unclear, I apologize, but you do understand that an innocent young woman's life is in danger if you do not allow me to leave?" His face assumed a troubled expression only when he turned. "Mr. Safad was not foolish enough to believe I would not be questioned, monitored and followed, but he was insistent that I return to the hotel within the specified time."

McGee was distracted from what was sure to be a sarcastic response as Cynthia plucked his sleeve. "Agent McGee? George and I think this is suspicious. Will you have a look?"

He accepted the folder without remarking on her use of Sampson's first name, although he still found it odd that Tony had bothered to hook up the pair. As Tony was currently being held hostage in parts unknown, he concentrated his attention on the file and not on why Tony had never set him up with a girl. Woman. Tripoli? McGee scanned down the page, blinked and looked again at the list of locations the private jet that had brought Nozdryov from Buenos Aires to Washington had been to prior to that charter. The Director had mentioned Cairo, Tripoli and Marrakech during the unenlightening briefing she'd given, albeit with no detail beyond the names of the cities. Still, it couldn't be coincidence that the same jet Nozdryov had been traveling on had recently been to the same destinations – unless the Director had just been naming random cities in North Africa to make it sound like she was actually giving them something to work with. He was beginning to consider pouring himself a drink.

Sampson looked at him expectantly, whispering, "Well?"

"We'll show Gibbs as soon as…"

"Why the hell should we trust what he's telling us?" Gibbs suddenly exploded, causing McGee, along with Sampson and Cynthia, to press tightly to the wall.

The Director was not as impressed with the outburst. "He is the only link we have to Safad at the moment." She turned slowly. "Agent McGee, Agent Sampson, if you would wait in the other room for a moment with Mr. Nozdryov. And you, Cynthia."

McGee was about to make Nozdryov stop and return the vodka bottle he'd taken from the Director's bar, but a glance at Gibbs' back told him it would be a better idea to spend some time in the antechamber with a drinking Russian arms dealer.

* * *

Jenny walked over to her plasma screen and slipped the disc Nozdryov had brought into the built-in DVD player, ignoring Gibbs' ranting while she did so. She knew he was demanding that she revise their priorities and make rescuing their people the top one, but he failed to understand that this could be their best opportunity to capture what was, in her opinion, one of the most dangerous terrorists currently free in the world. Tony and Ziva were trained agents who could take care of themselves…even if they were tied to chairs.

She didn't begin to feel the effects of the video until Safad appeared in the frame. "Director Shepard, you are responsible for many crimes as the chief authority of an American terrorist agency, but I am currently concerned only with one. You are holding my friend Afzal Sahrawi prisoner without having charged him with a crime and under dubious conditions. You will set him free in exchange for Agent Anthony DiNozzo's safety and freedom. As a more dangerous threat both to myself personally and to my associates worldwide, NCIS will not be allowed to negotiate for the release of Officer Ziva David, but you are welcome to share this message with the terrorists of Moussad, which I have no doubt you would do regardless of…"

She paused the video, freezing the image of Safad's confident smirk on the screen. Her fingers tightened around the remote she was holding. If she threw it hard enough and it went straight through his head onscreen, would it he feel it wherever he was right now? No, she wanted to see him suffer. Hopefully, Ziva would bring him in alive if she did manage to free herself. Knowing what she did, Ziva couldn't possibly kill Safad before Jenny had her say. Or would she?

The video began to play again and Jenny realized Gibbs had pried the remote from her hand. "Turn it off."

"We need to find out all we can about this guy. He kidnapped our people, in case you can't see them tied up in the background!"

"So send it to Abby and have her analyze it."

"Jen…"

"I said I've seen enough!" She retreated to the window, parting the blinds to look out at the river. Seeing Sahrawi in Morocco had been hard enough, and he had been the prisoner then. Would capturing and interrogating Safad be as unsatisfying as that had been? Or…had that been unsatisfying _because_ it had only been one of the men who had captured her and Lavoie? And Sahrawi hadn't even been the one to kill her partner in front of her, so maybe…

Gibbs paused the video again. "How do you know about this guy?"

"It's not important." She held up her hand to cut him off. "What _is_ important is catching him."

"And finding DiNozzo and David."

"Of course." When she found them, she would find Safad. "We should get Nozdryov back to his hotel and set up surveillance."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"We won't let him out of our sight." She suddenly realized that it was ridiculous for her to be justifying herself to a subordinate. "And he's our best link to Safad for the time being, so don't act like monitoring him is taking you away from the investigation. If they haven't tried to contact him again within twenty-four hours, we'll bring him back in."

Gibbs didn't argue further but walked toward the door. Just before opening it, he said, "I'll bring Nozdryov down to interrogation now."

"Agent Gibbs, what did I just tell you?"

"Shoulda paid attention to the tape, Jen."

She scanned back as he yanked the door shut behind him. Safad's voice sent chills through her once again. "Do what you wish with Mr. Nozdryov, as we have no further use of him. He has my guarantee that we will not carry out any threats that were made. I will contact you with further information when you have had some time to make your decisions."

Jenny ejected the disc and barely stopped herself from snapping it in half.


	7. Chapter 7

"Do you think we'll get a bucket?"

Ziva looked up from where she was finally starting to feel a little give in the ropes binding her left wrist – although it was possibly only an illusion due to the lubrication provided by either the sweat or blood dripping down her palm – and turned to Tony, whose chair had been moved alongside hers in what seemed to be preparation for making another video. "What are you talking about?"

"I have to pee. Is there anything in the Geneva Convention about bathroom privileges?"

"Tony, we're dealing with terrorists. I do not think they are terribly concerned about…" she trailed off, not wanting to think about the rules she'd broken in Morocco not so long ago. Justifiably broken, but… "Just hold it as long as you can so we don't have to deal with the smell." She went back to working her wrist against the rope, the sting becoming more apparent with each motion. Blood. Definitely blood. Sighing, she stopped for a moment. "I would not mind a bathroom break, though."

A few thunks later, he had managed to move his chair close enough to lean lightly against her. "Do you think they have a contingency plan for our bladders? Is that something kidnappers think about? What about beverages? And snacks?"

"It's only been a few hours since breakfast."

"Yeah, and lunchtime is a few hours after breakfast. I would love a sandwich right about now. Maybe a cheesesteak, with those special chips they make right at the deli…mmmm."

More annoyed than she would normally be in regard to Tony's stomach, she questioned, "I thought you needed to use the bathroom?"

"I'm trying to think about something else and food was the first thing I thought of." She felt his breath on her cheek as he allowed more of his weight to rest against her shoulder. "It doesn't work as well as talking about baseball."

"_That_ does not work half the time."

"Well, maybe_ you_ should be less arousing, with the hips and the hair and the bedroom eyes."

Stopping herself short of asking how he wanted her to change, she realized how ridiculous their conversation was becoming. "We are hostages tied to chairs!" She worked against the ropes harder than ever as she tried to lean away from him.

He finally took the hint and sat up. "And I still have to pee."

"You should have said something earlier, Agent DiNozzo." Ziva caught a disturbing glance of the hallway behind the door before Safad dropped the sheet upon entering. He called for one of at least two men working with him in Arabic before switching back to English. "I can't have you squirming when we speak to NCIS. Take him to the bathroom," he commanded the nameless man who had appeared in the doorway, giving Ziva another glance of what she now knew to be the foyer.

Tony obviously had not seen, or perhaps had just not recognized what was outside their sheet-covered room. "I get to use the toilet and everything? Gee, Mr. Kidnapper, you're really a swell guy!"

Safad smiled at the sarcasm and raised a familiar weapon to Ziva's head as his associate untied Tony. He tapped his ear as Tony was blindfolded. "Keep in contact. If he tries anything, she dies. Is this your weapon or his?"

Ziva recognized her own, but said, "We both carry SIGs. You would have to check the serial numbers."

"I suppose you would be sure if I used your backup, but I really prefer the semi-auto to the revolver."

The gun remained pressed against her temple long after Tony had left the room. "I am tied up, Safad. You can relax."

"Ahh, but I am relaxed." He dragged the barrel across her forehead, causing her to flinch as he came close to her wound. Stopping when it was positioned between her eyes, he said, "This is so tempting. I could kill you now and save myself the trouble of ever dealing with Moussad. Perhaps it is a good idea, even. Imagine how eager your superiors will be to trade for your lover's life when they see you killed in front of them – over a video link, to be sure, but…killing Ziva David. I suppose from your point of view it would be akin to the feeling I suspect you had on killing Dmitri Tushkevich."

"I doubt it." The satisfaction she felt over that accomplishment was not the kind associated with a smile, so it wasn't difficult to keep her features fixed in a scowl. "Your plan has always been to kill me, hasn't it?"

"It doesn't hurt to explore one's options, but, ultimately, yes. We both know that Moussad will never negotiate and you deserve to die for the crimes you have committed."

"I only know the first one," she muttered. "What if NCIS refuses to trade Sahrawi for Tony? What then?"

Safad shrugged. "You get to die together, I suppose. Him first. You will have to suffer, I'm afraid. That is all in the future, though. For the moment, you can take advantage of my benevolence and use the bathroom as soon as Agent DiNozzo has been resecured."

Ziva got another view of the foyer, confirming what she had already been certain of, when Tony was guided back into the room. Safad began loosening her bonds after he had been tied up again, complaining, "Your goon barely let me wash my hands! Don't you people believe in personal hygiene?"

"I will have to make sure that Officer David has a chance to do so, considering how she has torn up her wrist," Safad replied as he fixed the blindfold over her eyes. He gripped the back of her neck while pressing the muzzle of her gun into her head. "Move."

The black and white marble that passed under her feet as he pushed her ahead forced her to think not about the danger, but the potential to communicate their position to NCIS. She hadn't given Safad any reason to believe she had recognized their prison, being careful not to acknowledge that she knew they were in the bathroom until he told her. Reaching out with deliberately blind hands, she asked, "Are you going to stay and watch?"

"Don't flatter yourself. If I trusted you not to turn the fixtures into explosives, I would save myself the sight."

After she had washed her hands, she was met unexpectedly with a gauze bandage around her wrist. Safad only grunted when she softly thanked him in spite of herself. He was almost gentle when he led her back and retied her to the chair. Was he feeling bad about what he was planning? Or was he simply trying to throw her off guard? Once she had assured Tony that she was all right, she refocused her attention on what she was planning to say when they contacted NCIS. It was likely happening soon, as Tony had already been gagged again.


	8. Chapter 8

Gibbs snatched the keycard from Nozdryov's hand and jammed it into the slot on the door in front of them. If he was being ordered to be here, he was at least going to do it his way. Holding up his hand to prevent Jen and their prisoner – although she had tried to discourage him from referring to Nozdryov as such – from entering, Gibbs drew his weapon and stepped through the smallest opening the door would allow. The room was spacious and open, simple to clear, though he didn't permit the other two to come in until he had thoroughly checked both closets, the bathroom, under the bed and behind the curtains. Something still didn't feel right.

He returned to the door and ushered Nozdryov and Jen through, sticking his head into the hallway to make sure no one had appeared unexpectedly. The bolt felt solid when he shot it through; that was something.

Having removed his coat, Nozdryov made a beeline for small refrigerator designed to look like a cabinet, which Gibbs had also checked and found full of Russian vodka rather than handguns or C-4. "It appears someone delivered a computer to me in addition to fresh linens. Let us hope they also replenished my…ah!" He held up a bottle with a flourish. "If you and your people are hungry, Director Shepard, I would be happy to order something for them from room service, as well."

Gibbs grabbed Nozdryov's wrist as he reached for the laptop open on the desk. "This wasn't here when you left?"

"It does not belong to me, no." He pulled his wrist from Gibbs' grasp and picked up one of the glasses on the other side of the computer. "Perhaps it was brought here by whoever left my instructions with the desk in the lobby." He gave the room a cursory glance. "Incidentally, it appears the note they were written on has disappeared."

"Yeah," Gibbs growled, yanking his phone from his pocket and turning away. "McGee?"

"We're just getting into the elevator, boss. I sent the footage from around the time Nozdryov said that…"

"Go back and get whatever they have from then up to when we got here. Hell, get everything from when Nozdryov arrived 'til now. And I need to know who came into this room."

"It's an electronic lock so there should be a log…" McGee trailed off. "You know, I'm going to get the rest of the security footage and send it to Abby while Sampson finds out who was…"

"Good." Gibbs snapped his phone shut, scowling at Jen as she bent over the laptop. "Maybe we should leave that to McGee and a pair of gloves."

"It's on."

"What?"

"It doesn't take a computer genius to tell that this is on." She carefully folded her hands behind her back as she turned to look at him before leaning closer to the keyboard. "It's just in sleep mode."

"Jen…"

"Jethro, even you can see that the green light is…"

"Fine." He shook his head, putting his phone back in his pocket and feeling something else. He turned the keycard he had taken from Nozdryov over a few times before taking it out. "Do you have more of these?"

"Why would I…"

He ignored Jen's confusion, brushing past her to where Nozdryov was arranging cushions under his feet on a chaise longue in the corner. "Did you get more than one of these when you checked in?"

"I received two." He reached for the vodka bottle on the small table beside him. "If you would like something to eat, the menu is…"

"What did you do with the other keycard?"

"I do not know. What does it matter?"

Gibbs balled his fists, but quickly relaxed them. He could deal with the idiot until they found Tony and Ziva and threw him in jail. "It matters because you keep forgetting to mention little details, like maybe how you gave it to Safad so he could get in and leave this little set up while you were out," he said, waving his arm toward the computer Jen was still examining.

"While I am not strictly on your side, Agent Gibbs, I am certainly not on his. If you are that interested in finding my extra room key, perhaps it is on the nightstand. I believe I dropped it there when I first arrived."

Gibbs was almost disappointed to find it under a book a moment later. Without showing it to Nozdryov, he moved toward the door to answer a light knock. "Who is it?"

"It's Sampson." He admitted the nervous agent, who immediately began reading from his notepad, "The room was accessed an hour and ten minutes ago by someone using a universal keycard, like what staff would have to get in and…"

"I suppose the man who was here would not have needed my key, Agent Gibbs," Nozdryov interrupted with a smirk.

"What makes you think it was just one guy?"

He shrugged and sipped his drink. "I could just have easily said men."

"Got an answer for everything, don't you?"

"As I said, I have been dealing with Mr. Safad for a week. And I would not have survived to retirement in my chosen profession if I had made a habit of undue alarmism. So, there is a computer on the desk that was not there when I left. There is no reason to…"

"Director Shepard! It's been years, hasn't it?"

Gibbs pulled his weapon to confront the unexpected intruder, but was surprised to see Jen still facing the computer and saying, "You're not getting Sahrawi, Safad."

Moving to stand beside her, he was met with a mirthless smile on the laptop's screen. "No need to be so hostile. We're old friends! I'm sure I could have gotten to know you even better if Officer David had not interfered. Do you ever dream about Cairo, Director?"

When she didn't reply, appearing to be frozen, Gibbs stepped between her and the computer, hoping his body was blocking her from view on the other end of the feed. "We want our people back. You can either give them to us or…"

"Or what? You'll rescue them and kill me?" Safad stepped back and turned the camera to a view of Tony and Ziva gagged and bound to chairs. "I am afraid that will not be the case." Gibbs flinched as he struck Tony across the face with the butt of a pistol. "My demands are simple. You will release Afzal Sahrawi in exchange for Agent DiNozzo." He struck Tony again. "You have twelve hours to produce Sahrawi at coordinates you will receive within the hour. If you fail to do so, DiNozzo dies."

Gibbs shook his head, hoping Tony was getting the message that he wouldn't let that happen. "What about Officer David?"

"There is a significant chance that there is nothing you can do to save her." In spite of the threat, Tony was the one to be hit yet again.

"You're not going to hurt her, Safad," Jen suddenly said, her voice much stronger than Gibbs would have expected, given how shaken she had seemed moments before. "I want both of my agents back."

Safad laughed. "Sometimes only one can go home, as I'm sure you remember."

"Don't you dare…"

"Perhaps I will feel more generous after my friend has been released. As for Mr. Nozdryov," he continued, "do with him what you will. I'm sure there are very few people who will be sad to see him go to prison."

"I think not," Nozdryov said, barely rousing himself from his reclining position. "I was promised safe passage home!"

Safad rolled his eyes. "The fool believed I could guarantee him that. His usefulness was finished the moment he came into NCIS's custody. Now, Director Shepard, about our deal…"

"You know the United States does not negotiate with…"

"That is why I am not negotiating with your country, but with you." Safad suddenly jammed a knife under Ziva's gag, cutting her deeply as he sliced through the material that was now falling away from her mouth. "Anything you would like to say to the people who have your Tony's fate in their hands?" He pressed his gun into the fresh wound on the side of her neck. "Don't be shy, Officer David."

"Tony and I…" her eyes flicked to the weapon, the muzzle of which had disappeared into her flesh, "would very much like to…" she gritted her teeth visibly as she stared into the camera, "go home, Jen."

Gibbs had a strange feeling of helplessness as Ziva made the request, so simple but so impossible if things didn't change very soon. What the hell was taking McGee so long? If he were here, he would be tracing the signal to wherever Safad was holding Tony and Ziva and… Gibbs frowned. He had been the one to give McGee the extra task that was preventing him from being here.

Safad casually wiped the barrel of the gun with the gag he had cut off Ziva. "Very touching. You'll have the information I mentioned within an hour." He pressed a button on a remote he waved in front of the camera. "Goodbye, Director. It is a shame we will not meet face to…" The screen abruptly went dead as sparks erupted from the keyboard.

Sampson moved to answer the door and Jen sank onto the bed without a word, leaving Gibbs to wonder if pouring water on the thing would do more harm than good. Appearing at his side, McGee asked, "What smells like fried electronics?"

"That!" He gave McGee a moment to inspect the computer. "Can you fix it?"

"I won't know until I get it to Abby's lab, but the black smoke isn't very encouraging. I may have more luck trying to track the incoming signal through the hotel's…"

"Do it without explaining it to me, McGee. I want a copy of that message."

McGee gave him a confused look. "What message?"

"Got it, Agent Gibbs."

He turned to Sampson, beaming inexplicably as he waved his cell phone. "Got what?"

"My phone takes video, so when the computer…should I not have done that?"

"That's good thinking, Sampson. I'll take that back to Abby."

"Oh, I can just email it to her, if that…"

"Yeah, do it. And I want you two to start going through this room as soon as you've finished the inter-phone stuff." Gibbs nodded to McGee, who left to do whatever computer-related thing he needed to do. "Treat it like a crime scene, Sampson." As Sampson got to work, wisely deciding to start on the opposite side of the room, Gibbs sat down on the edge of the bed beside Jen. "We should let McGee and Sampson handle things here and take him back to NCIS."

Nozdryov met his glare with a languid stare. "I would really rather remain here in my very comfortable hotel room, Agent Gibbs."

"And I'd rather toss your ass in a cell. Think of this as your lucky day."

"Director, you cannot…"

Jen stood, pulling her jacket down. "Mr. Nozdryov, I'm afraid that walking into NCIS today was as good as turning yourself in. Unless you can give us something concrete to help us find our people, you aren't going anywhere." She put her hands on her hips, watching as Nozdryov slowly rose and moved to the refrigerator, where he slipped several vodka bottles into his pockets. Gibbs noted that she was being careful not to make eye contact when she said, "Let's go, Agent Gibbs."

He decided he would give her until they had Nozdryov on ice in an interrogation room to start asking questions about Safad and Cairo.


	9. Chapter 9

Tony swallowed past his gag reflex, wondering what the odd clump of Jell-o-like material now on its way to his stomach could be. Things in his head had been a little hazy since the first forceful hit of the gun butt. It wasn't a tooth. Teeth didn't turn to jelly if they got knocked out, did they? The one he'd lost during a game against Purdue and their beast of a center had just kind of clattered against the gold and black at the end of the court, sending cheerleaders, even the ones he hadn't dumped, into a panicked retreat. He coughed as one of Safad's goons released the cloth gag that had been forcing him to swallow anonymous globs for the past few minutes and said, "At least Brutus Buckeye was nice enough to pick it up and give it to the trainer."

The goon looked at him with a furrowed brow for a moment before deciding it wasn't worth asking about. If their little trip to the bathroom had been any indication, the guy didn't speak much English, anyway; he probably wouldn't understand about cheerleaders or mascots or even basketball, either. Tony had a sneaking suspicion that terrorists probably weren't big sports fans. He focused on feeling around for unexpected holes in his gums where a tooth should have been and was pleased to find that none were AWOL.

Premolar. The team dentist had told him it was a premolar just before he'd removed it from a solution and shoved it back into Tony's jaw, sending him back out on the floor just in time for a comeback in the final three minutes. He'd needed a root canal, but the tooth was still there today. He couldn't even be sure which one it was. Maybe Ziva would like hearing the story while they calmly waited for Gibbs to rescue them.

He turned his head to look at her just as the goon was leaving the room, but only had a limited view. His right eye hadn't taken long to swell shut and his left was opening only halfway. From what he could see, she looked a little pale, but unhurt. Aside from a scary moment when Tony had thought Safad was going to cut her with the knife he had used to cut through her gag, she had made it through _Hostages, Part 2_ unscathed, which made her silence a little unsettling. In fact, she hadn't made a sound since Safad had made her beg for their lives, which had been kind of freaky in itself. Catching himself before a comment about how she had nothing to be ashamed of could pop out, he asked, "How you doing?"

"Better than you." Her tone expressed much more concern than her words; he had a strong feeling that he wanted her to hold him until the drugs he imagined her giving him took effect. "Are you going to be all right?"

"Ask me again next week." He made an effort to smile, but found that his face was too tight to produce anything but a puffy grimace. "I don't know why he had to keep hitting me once he hung up on Gibbs and Jenny. And who was that Mr. Nozzle he was talking about?"

"Nozdryov."

They name sounded familiar somehow. "Someone I should know?"

"Not exactly." She looked away, toward the area she'd said was a window. "Dmitri's father."

Rather than responding, Tony expressed himself by spitting out the latest unexplained blob suddenly drifting around his mouth. As it hit the off-white sheet on the floor, it broke into several smaller blobs that left red splotches as they bounced. He shuddered. "Ugh."

"Was that from your nose?"

"Mouth. I'd say I've never seen something like _that_ come out of a person's nose before, but I've never seen anything like that come out of a person's mouth either."

Ziva sighed. "It is a blood clot. I think your nose is broken."

An attempted series of twitches allowed him to feel that it was possibly not the only fracture; his right cheek wasn't moving correctly. He was about to complain about it when he contorted his face into an angle that allowed both of his eyes to open for a moment, revealing a more complete view of Ziva. He couldn't remember her shirt having an abstract pattern of…his swollen eye refused to stay open any longer. "You're bleeding!"

"So are you."

"Yeah, but…but…you _knew_ I was bleeding." It must have happened when Safad had cut the gag away, out of Tony's line of sight. He was disappointed with himself for not noticing earlier. "Where are you hurt?"

She grunted and inhaled sharply as she tried to lean toward him. Her head never made it to his shoulder, where he thought she was aiming. "It's just a small cut on my neck."

"Your whole shirt's a different color!"

"And you're in polka dots."

He allowed his chin to drop onto his chest, a position less comfortable than he would have expected as it was making his breathing more difficult, but he was able to see what she was talking about. "Huh. I think it looks more like splatter paint. I still don't know why they had to keep it up after…maybe he was just recording some stock footage?" He took a welcome deep breath as he leaned his head back. "Ahh. Sorry I wasn't paying attention. Here I was feeling sorry for myself when…"

"Don't do this, Tony. It is not a competition."

"I just meant…"

"I know."

Keeping his head back, he allowed his mind to drift for a moment. The pain in his face proved a strong deterrent to daydreaming. Much as he would have preferred the image of Ziva in a bikini that he'd been trying to conjure, he turned to the real thing at his side. "I liked what you said."

"What?"

"About going home." Smiling suddenly somehow became easier. "I'm gonna sit in the tub with a beer and just…sit there with the jets on. Maybe put on that stupid sports radio station you hate and listen to idiots talk about how irrelevant our baseball teams are. Then I'm gonna lie in bed."

"And?"

"Well, you'll be there, and we'll just…lie there. And I'll invade your space and you won't push me away and we'll…be there. And it'll just be nice to be home and together and not kidnapped."

He kept his eyes closed, listening to the creaking of the room around them and Ziva's quiet breathing until she whispered, "That does sound nice." After a beat she added, "Will there be Tylenol?"

"Babe, there'll be a couple filled prescriptions of Tylenol #3."

"Tylenol #4 has twice the codeine."

He could almost feel the analgesic effects. "I love you."

"Gibbs and Jen will find us."

He was slightly disappointed. "Oh."

"Don't pretend you were talking about me and not the pills you were thinking about."

"Oh." He allowed his head to loll for a moment. Much as he would like a painkiller at the moment, he much preferred Ziva's company – which made him feel guilty. The situation would be much better if it were just him, bleeding and tied up in some anonymous room, waiting for Ziva to bust down the door like some Viking berserker, instead of… He managed another glimpse of the bloodstain on her shirt, wishing he could do something – anything – to help her in a meaningful way. "How bad is it?"

"Safad said that NCIS has twelve hours, so I think we may have that long, at the very least."

He spit another blood clot onto the floor, not watching to see what it did this time. "I meant you. Where are you cut? How bad is it? Is it still bleeding?"

"It's nothing."

"Ziva…"

"If you had a mirror, you would realize that I am not the one you need to worry about."

"Ungh. And I was so pretty, too."

"You will look fine once the swelling goes down. And the bruises fade. And the cuts heal."

"Geez, you could at least pretend I still look good."

"You are demonstrating concern for me in spite of your own serious injuries. Any woman who would prefer looks over that is a fool."

He tried to pout. "Don't I usually give you both? I provide eye-candy _and_ adoration."

He was surprised by how close her words were to his ear when she said, "You are only perfect for me."

"I love you." This time, he was sure he wasn't speaking to pills available only in his mind.

"I love you, too." The pressure of her body against his shoulder was welcome. "They're going to come get us."

He strained his ears, but couldn't hear anyone moving outside the room. "Think they're gonna move us soon?"

"Not _them_. NCIS."

"How can you be sure?"

Her voice dropped to a barely audible hiss. "Because I told them where we are."


	10. Chapter 10

"Where _are_ you guys?" Abby demanded of the shaky, awful video from Sampson's cell phone, as if it would somehow yield answers that saved Tony from more pistol-whipping. She squeezed her eyes shut in anticipation of the – second times the fifty-three times she'd already watched the short recording – one hundred and sixth time Tony grunted in response to the blow while Ziva struggled ineffectually to help him. Abby paused the video before Ziva could pretend that lacerations to the neck weren't that painful so as not to disturb Tony's semi-consciousness. She squinted, wishing for more pixels. "There's nothing in this room that tells me anything! I can't even analyze the angles of light because I can't tell if it's natural light or…"

"How, exactly, would that help, Abs?"

"Oh, Gibbs!" She threw her arms around his neck, knowing he wouldn't actually want to know about how the light wouldn't mean jack without a reference point, not allowing herself to be distracted by the chill of the Caf-Pow cup he was pressing into her back as he returned the hug. The cold, condensation-dripping… "Right!" She grabbed the cup from his hand and took a long, satisfying sip. "I wish I'd done something to earn that. I mean, I've been thinking about the room and how it looks like it's covered in sheets, so maybe they're in a place with…a lot of sheets? Like a hotel or a house with a ton of bedrooms? Or Bed, Bath and Beyond? Unless, of course, they brought their _own_ sheets, which would…"

Gibbs cut her off, "You didn't find anything on the hotel security footage?"

"Oh, that!" Without setting her Caf-Pow down, she called up footage from one of the hotel elevators on one of her monitors. "I went backwards from when the room was accessed and found this guy. He comes in with a laptop case, gets off at Nozzy-dwarf's floor, leaves about ten minutes later."

"Nozdryov," Gibbs corrected, scowling at the screen.

"Whatever. The guy is hanging out in the lobby at various points during Nozzled-off's stay. Anyway, I'm running facial recognition on him, but no luck so far."

"Probably just a hired thug. Safad's not gonna risk being seen in public."

"Yeah, about that guy…" She bounced up and down on the balls of her feet until Gibbs' glare shifted from indulgent to irritated, which seemed to happen faster than usual. "Well, I did a little research once I heard the name and," she paused to let her frown communicate more than her assessment, "it's not good."

"He's a Hamas terrorist holding my people hostage."

"I know, like I could explain a circumstance in which we'd consider that good." She took a moment to perform some deep breathing exercised to slow her heart and calm her mind. "Iceberg, Gibbs. The _Titanic_ doesn't sink if the only part that hits the hull is the part they see." She bent over to pick up the heavy file folder she'd been keeping under her table. "And I think a few too many of the watertight compartments have been breached."

"Is there some reason…?"

"History Channel, Bossman. April 15th is an easy programming day for them."

"I meant is there some reason I'm _just_ getting this?"

"Gibbs, I just found out I needed to find out everything possible about this Safad guy! I ran a search of the database and the number for the hard-copy file came up and Wilkins owed me a favor, so…" She shrugged guiltily, pointing at the file. "I took a short walk off a long pier that landed me in the basement across the street."

To her surprise and delight, Gibbs smiled. "You tryin' to make up for Ziva not being here?"

"Hmm?" She sucked on her Caf-Pow straw, realizing that she hadn't know just how close she'd come to a caffeine-deficiency emergency, and quickly switched her monitors from the still of Sampson's footage to a neutral screensaver before Gibbs could look up and find a reason to stop smiling. "Do you want to read that file yourself, or do you just want the Abby-cap?"

He held out his hands, but still asked, "What's it say?"

"It's all about an NCIS joint operation, codename Billhook, in Cairo that involved surveillance on a group of terrorists who were planning a multi-target attack in Europe. This Safad guy shows up by name as one of the men who kidnapped two NCIS agents and held them for three days. Special Agent Curtis Lavoie was killed during the mission."

"Who was the other agent?"

Feeling a little silly revealing information she was fairly certain Gibbs had already inferred, she whispered, "Special Agent Jennifer Shepard."

He nodded. "What happened, exactly?"

"Well…Agents Shepard and Lavoie were captured while gathering intelligence on the cell. Lavoie died at some point during the three days they were held captive and the Director was rescued by allies before…well…" Colleagues she had never known dying was hard enough without the hypotheticals. "Long story short, the Director was saved and the bad guys got away, even after a bunch of chasing…case suspended. Safad's name comes up in a bunch of CIA files I didn't use McGee's special program to get a look at, but this is the only link to NCIS I could find."

Gibbs was silent as he paged through the documents in the file. In spite of the limited time she'd had with it, Abby had given it a thorough read-through, but there was no way she could guarantee she had zeroed in on all of the necessary details involving a mission she knew nothing about. It was almost enough to tempt her back to the video, where she could analyze sound, light and time until caffeine could no longer keep her awake. Gibbs eventually looked up. "You said it was a joint op?"

"That's the weird thing, Gibbs. Even though this is our own secure file, the other agency involved in the mission is never mentioned by name, not even any of the operatives involved. Someone called 'Radiant' comes up a bunch of times and rescues Director Shepard, but other than that…" she trailed off, frustrated that she hadn't been able to extrapolate anything from the code-words in the file. What was the point of even keeping files if you couldn't refer back to them for useful information at a later date? Of course, Director Shepard would probably be able to fill in the blanks, but there were likely a lot of _other_ files that she couldn't…not that any of those file would help them rescue Tony and Ziva, but…how many files were there that could require Shepard-ing or Gibbs-ification or Franks-furters? What if they had another case in the near future and couldn't find a senior or retired agent to fill in the blanks?

Abby took a deep breath. They had Director Shepard for now, and that was going to be what they needed. She turned to Gibbs, but he was focused on the ceiling. "Gibbs? _Gibbs_!"

"Ziva."

"No, I'm Abby, Gibbs."

"I know. And that's good work, Abs." He tucked the file under his arm. "McGee is trying to track the signal through the hotel's network, so coordinate with him while I…"

"Gibbs!"

He turned in the doorway, somewhat annoyed. "What?"

"Be _Carpathia_. Don't be _Californian_."

"No one's going down, Abs." He left the lab without making eye contact.

She rewound the soundtrack on her nightmare fuel video. "Tony and I…would very much like to…go home, Jen."

Abby watched it a few more times before saying, "Oh, Ziva. You should know that _Gibbs_ is the one you call for help when things like this happen."


	11. Chapter 11

Jenny closed the door of the conference room behind her, only to find an even less welcome sight than Nozdryov getting flirtier and touchy-feely as he continued to drink; hopefully he would find Agent Mather a less appealing object of his affection. She paused, taking a moment to decide if it might not be better to take her chances in the conference room. She opted for Gibbs, leaning against the wall with arms behind his back. "Has Abby found anything?"

"She's workin' on it." When he moved away from the wall to follow her to as she strode purposefully toward her office, he revealed a file he had been concealing behind his back. "Looked for you in Interrogation, but no one was there besides the tech guy."

Reading the slight as she was sure it was intended, she replied testily, "Nozdryov is in our custody and we're not letting him go anywhere. What difference does it make where we keep him?"

"He's a wanted arms dealer."

"He's providing us with information."

"Yeah, pretty conveniently if you ask me."

She whirled with her hand on the doorknob of the antechamber and made an effort to keep her voice low. "Safad is using him, probably as some kind of distraction or even just an annoyance. I don't see the harm in our doing the same until we find Ziva and Tony and kill the bastard."

"So _that's_ what this is all about." He held up the file he was carrying. "You're planning to kill Safad like he killed Lavoie?"

Although she recognized the number on the cover at a glance, for a moment she refused to believe what she was seeing. "Where did you get that?"

He shrugged. "It's an official NCIS case. Y'know, I remember when we were looking for Ari, you mentioned…"

"Not here!" she hissed. Grabbing his arm, she shoved him through the door ahead of her. On the way through the outer room, she ordered, "Cynthia, go…go tell whoever's in charge of the secure files that they're fired."

"Maybe you should wait on that one for a few minutes, Cynthia," Gibbs said.

"Shut up, Agent Gibbs." She didn't bother to see if Cynthia had moved beyond mute surprise to action when she slammed her office door. "You had no right to…"

"No, _you_ had no right, Director!" He smashed the file against her conference table. "You knew who this guy was and you said nothing because you couldn't wait to get your revenge on the guy who killed your partner."

"Get off the fucking high horse before you get lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, Jethro." He glared, but didn't challenge her again as she sank into the chair behind her desk. "There's nothing in that file that will help us find Ziva and Tony."

He flipped open the cover and sat at the table. "How can you be sure?"

"Because I've been over it enough times in the past few months to know." Taking a twin folder from the bottom draw of her desk, she dropped it on her blotter with a thud. "When Tushkevich managed to kidnap Ziva a few months ago, Safad and Sahrawi's names came up as the people he was planning to turn her over to."

"He wasn't trying to…"

"He was trying to punish her in the most painful way possible. We've been working with Moussad since then to hunt them down. Sahrawi was recently captured and interrogated in Morocco…"

"That was why you disappeared last week?"

She continued as if she hadn't been interrupted, "and he didn't know where Safad was."

"He could have lied."

She felt a smirk creep across her face. "Trust me, he couldn't have. And what would it matter now?"

Gibbs sighed. "Anything you wanna tell me before I read this whole thing?"

"What is there to tell? It was a standard surveillance op that went bad. Curtis died, I lived, Safad and Sahrawi got away."

"And Ziva?"

"We'll find her."

"I meant…"

"Yes, when I told you that she saved my life in Cairo, this was it." He continued to stare at her, but reliving the entire experience was not something she planned to do. Tapping her fingers rhythmically against the cover of her own file, she waited.

Gibbs finally said, "I never met Lavoie, but I knew him by reputation. Good agent."

"Yes. He was."

"Jen…" He was cut off as the door opened.

"Ma'am?"

Jenny caught a glimpse of Gibbs as she looked up, finding it odd that he was no longer attempting to force eye contact.. "Didn't I ask you to go to the secure file room, Cynthia?"

"You did, and I was…I received a call just as I was about to go. You're needed in MTAC, a transmission from Agent Saunders and Major Miner in…"

She shot out of her chair, wondering why placing a call to the team that was supposed to be tracking Safad hadn't been her first priority when Ziva and Tony had been taken. In fact, she couldn't wait to find out exactly how her proximity to Safad was likely so vastly greater than theirs at the moment. Perhaps some justified chewing-outs would help her focus on the situation at hand. "Agent Gibbs, if you think your presence will be an _asset_…" She waved her hand toward the door in a half-sarcastic gesture. He took his copy of the file with him when he left the room; she replaced her own in her bottom drawer.

"Director?"

"I'm coming, Cynthia."

She trailed Jenny as she left her office. "There's something else you should know. I spoke with Hannah an hour ago."

"Director David's assistant?"

"She was about to get on a plane with Director David and wanted us to have a heads-up. They're coming here."

Jenny paused before leaning forward to scan her eye at the entrance to MTAC. "Did we tell him that Ziva had been captured?"

"Yes, you asked me to inform them of the situation shortly after it occurred."

"Good." Although Jenny couldn't remember issuing such an order, she was glad it had been carried out. "And Cynthia?"

"Yes, Ma'am?"

"Don't bother firing whoever is in charge of the files. Gibbs would have found a way to get it without their help."

"Of course, Director."

Gibbs was laughing when she walked into MTAC. "Maybe you shouldn't have volunteered, Saunders."

One of the men on the large screen gave an exaggerated grimace. "Right, because you've never been tempted to…Director. Agent Gibbs and I were just catching up on…"

"I don't care. Tell me how Faiz Safad managed to slip away from you and kidnap two NCIS agents stateside."

"Well, we…Moussad was…we were following…"

Maj. Miner broke in, "He deked us, Ma'am. Figured out we were on him and had us and Moussad following two separate trails that didn't lead to him. We never even sniffed him in Tripoli, but we were contacting you because we just got word from Officer Arad with his team at a private airfield. It looks like Safad may have flown to West Virginia three days ago, small airport about ten miles north of Charleston. I suggest we get men on the ground and…"

"Get us all the information, Major, and we'll organize from here."

"Should we report too?"

She pursed her lips for a moment. "Negative. Get everyone together and be ready to move in half an hour. Safad is supposed to be contacting us regarding a potential trade site for Sahrawi and one of our agents. I want you there for support."

"Ma'am, are you really planning to…"

"You wouldn't be going there if I was. Is there anything else we need to know?"

"Not that won't be in the files we're emailing you as we speak, Ma'am."

"Good. Agent Saunders, anything you'd like to add?"

"Just that I'm sorry we lost him, Director."

"It happens," she replied without absolution or commiseration before signaling to one of the techs to terminate the connection. The urge she'd felt to scream at them had mysteriously vanished.

Gibbs was watching her again. "West Virginia's only a few hours from here."

"If you're driving, it is." She eyed him. "You don't seem eager to make that drive."

"Timing's off. That first disk had to be filmed before it was delivered to Nozdryov, so within three hours of snatching Tony and Ziva. They couldn't have made it there that fast."

"Were they in the same room on both occasions we saw them?"

He shrugged. "Abby should be able to tell. Doesn't help us much even if they are close."

"But he isn't likely to move them."

"I sure as hell wouldn't beat the crap out of DiNozzo then untie Ziva." He moved toward the door. "It'd make things a whole lot easier if they did, though."

When Jenny sat to gather her thoughts a few moments later, she found the file Gibbs had been carrying sitting on the seat beside her. A quick look at pages fourteen and thirty-one was enough to remind her that sitting in the dark and feeling sorry for herself could wait until she got home to her study, whenever that would be.

Gibbs was standing outside the conference room when she approached a few minutes later, having placed the file in her desk with its copy. "Change your mind about Nozdryov?"

"Interrogation does strike me as a less comfortable…" she trailed off as she opened the door on an empty room. "Agent Mather?"

"Yes, Director?" the man in question replied from the wrong side of the door.

"Where's our guest?"

"Passed out on the…" Mather stepped into the room and looked around, wide-eyed. "Oh, shit."

Before Jenny could give the order, Gibbs was running along the catwalk, issuing orders to lock down the building.


	12. Chapter 12

McGee's instinct that something was off was confirmed when security insisted on frisking him as he and Sampson cut through the garage, in spite of the fact that he knew the man searching them and the lockdown was aimed at preventing egress rather than ingress. That actually sounded like something that might make a good plot point in his next novel – NCIS could be fooled into thinking someone was trying to get out when, in fact, someone was using the chaos to… McGee jumped. "This is not a cavity search, Wheeler!"

"Sorry, Agent McGee, but protocol states that even authorized personnel are subject to…"

"Not _this_!" He strode as confidently as he could manage toward the elevator, attempting to adjust his belt while maintaining his hold on the box of evidence he was carrying. Maybe having someone sneak in during a lockdown wasn't the best idea. Tony was certainly onto something when he said you should never give the welder-probies delusions of grandeur. At least Ducky had been thoughtful enough to give him a call regarding the situation, giving he and Sampson time to prepare for what was sure to be an unpleasant atmosphere in the bullpen.

McGee grabbed Sampson's hand in the elevator, preventing him from hitting that particular button. He wasn't sure if invasive frisking wasn't preferable to angry Gibbs. No, he knew. Rather than returning to the garage, he hit a different button. "We should really stop by the lab to drop off the evidence from the hotel first."

"Of course." Sampson shifted the bag containing the damaged computer to his other hand. "Should we have brought coffee, too?"

"No, but…" McGee nearly dropped his box when Abby launched herself through the elevator doors at him. "I'm happy to see you too, Abby."

"No! Now is not the time for happy!" She pulled away from him and, after a moment's consideration, enveloped Sampson in a crushing hug as well. McGee reached out to catch the bags the less experienced agent wasn't able to juggle with the hug. Abby continued to prattle as she dragged them both out of the elevator, "People have been in and out of my lab for the past thirty minutes looking for this Nobby-dork guy, like he's going to sneak pas t me and…I don't even know! Right, plop down the evidence and my Caf-Pow and get out before…"

"A minute ago you were…"

McGee was unfortunately caught between breaths when she hugged him again. "I know, I know! I'm just glad you're back and no one tried to kidnap you while you were out, but Gibbs told me that he wanted you upstairs as soon as I was done hugging you. Well, he didn't specifically say hugging, but he did say once you were done here and he knows that means…" she trailed off, releasing him and looking at the table. "Where's my Caf-Pow?"

"Isn't there already one in your refrigerator over there?"

"Sammy, that is my spare, and if I drink my spare, I will no longer have a spare. Should I make you a diagram?"

McGee stepped between the wide-eyed Sampson and Abby. "Abby, why don't you drink your spare and we will bring you a fresh one plus an extra as soon as we find Tony and Ziva, okay?"

She brightened. "So you're definitely going to find them in the next hour, then? Because that's when I'll need another…"

McGee frowned as he stepped back into the elevator. The fact that he hadn't had any luck trying to track the feed that had come through the laptop at the hotel made an hour seem a little out of the question. Unless there was some other breakthrough within… He turned to Sampson. "This Safad guy is supposed to contact us with information soon, isn't he?"

"That's what he said on the video."

McGee nodded slowly. "We need to be ready to run traces on phone and internet connections. This is gonna be tough if we don't know who he's planning to…"

Director Shepard's voice was immediately audible as the elevator doors opened. "And you thought that was an acceptable reason for you to disobey your orders and leave a suspect alone?"

McGee grabbed Sampson's sleeve to stop him from entering the bullpen where a cowering Agent Mather was suffering a very public dressing-down when they arrived. "He was passed out drunk on the table! I just stepped out for a second to use the bathroom!"

Gibbs circled him slowly, speaking in a quieter but no less angry voice, "And you didn't think to have someone watch Nozdryov while you tinkled?"

McGee bit his tongue at the Gibbs' choice of words, though the disgraced agent was blushing deeply. "Like I said, he was passed out. I didn't think he'd go anywhere!"

"And that is still not an acceptable excuse, Agent Mather." Gibbs stepped behind his desk as the Director held out her hand. "You are dismissed for the remainder of the day. In fact, take the whole week. Be in my office at eight o' clock Monday morning to discuss your future with this agency." She yanked Mather's weapon and badge from his grasp and turned on her heel, shouting to the assembled gawkers, "Is there some reason all of you are standing around when Nozdryov…"

"Ma'am, we need you in MTAC," Cynthia interrupted from the catwalk.

McGee flattened himself against the partition as she charged past, looking up as she said, "Unless you've found…"

"Director, you should really come up to MTAC."

Director Shepard glared upward, but made her way to the stairs, pausing at the first landing to declare, "Is there some reason the rest of you aren't trying to track down Nozdryov?"

McGee was about to drag Sampson into the search when Gibbs propelled them both toward the bullpen. "Not you. We've got other things to handle. You get anything useful from the hotel?"

"Um, not really. We just handed the evidence over to Abby, so it…maybe I should go down and help her with the laptop or…"

"Agent Gibbs!"

McGee stepped aside as a junior agent he didn't know by name rushed past him. She stopped short as Gibbs turned to her with an annoyed grimace. "We're a little busy right now, Agent…?"

"Patel, sir. The guard downstairs told me to grab you or the most senior agent I could find and bring them out front ASAP."

"Is it Nozdryov?"

"What?"

"Did they get Nozdryov trying to leave?"

"No one was trying to leave and I don't know his name, sir."

Gibbs had started to walk away, prompting McGee to move out of the way once again. "I suggest you find someone else to handle parking lot duty, because we've got…"

"But your name was on the note, sir!" Patel interrupted, looking terrified that she'd dared to do so.

McGee could sympathize, especially given the way Gibbs was now glaring at her. "What note?"

She took a step backward, bumping into Sampson as she did so. Her already quiet voice dropped to a mousy squeak. "The one pinned to the dead body out on the front lawn."

McGee didn't have to step out of anyone's way this time, as he was leading the group running to the elevator.

* * *

"What do you mean, a fire?" Jenny rubbed her temple, wondering what else could go wrong as the agent onscreen shrugged and waved his arm vaguely in the direction of an orange glow in the distance.

"We don't know anything more than ZNN does at the moment, Ma'am. Preliminary report from the guys at the airfield is an electrical fire from old wiring that spread to their fuel tanks and then all hell broke loose. Literally. No one but fire crews are getting near that place for a while."

"Right." She sighed, deciding that complaining about fuel storage protocols at rural airports served no purpose. "Keep me posted , Agent Cunningham."

Jenny sank into one of the seats in MTAC's front row as the screen reverted to its usual test pattern. There was no way the fire at the airport where Safad had landed a few days previously was a simple coincidence, but she couldn't even be sure that anything worthwhile would have turned up there. Safad couldn't have gotten that far since kidnapping Tony and Ziva, but it had been the closest they'd had to a solid lead since…

"Director?"

She forced herself not to snap at Cynthia, "Yes?"

"Someone dumped a dead man out front."

Jenny waited for more information before prompting, "Out in front of what?"

"Here."

"Here?"

Cynthia knitted her eyebrows. "Right next to the NCIS sign. Agent Gibbs and his team just went down. Apparently there's some kind of note attached to the body."

"Cynthia, would you like to be Director for the rest of the week?"

She half-smiled. "Shall I get your coat?"

Jenny stood, noting that her limbs felt heavy. "Meet me outside with it. And a coffee."

"Yes, Ma'am."

She bumped into McGee in the lobby and ignored his explanations about checking security cameras and gate passes. She realized she should have asked Cynthia for her sunglasses as well. How was it still daylight? She felt so tired all of a sudden. Wanting to believe that her energetic chewing out of Agent Mather was the reason, she drew herself up and strode over to where Gibbs and Sampson were crouching beside a corpse clad in dark clothing sprawled beside the agency's simple sign. Had circumstances been different, she could see someone making a joke about this picture not being in the running for the front page of the NCIS website. Tony, probably. The thought that he wasn't here to make that joke served to focus her as she leaned down to hear what Gibbs and Sampson were discussing.

"You sure?"

"Are you testing me, Agent Gibbs?"

"No, I'm asking you if you're sure."

"Sure of what?" Jenny interrupted.

Gibbs glanced at her. "Sampson recognized this guy from the hotel security footage. He's the guy that brought the computer to Nozdryov's room."

"Safad is killing his own men."

"The one we can trace back to him," Gibbs added. "Can you see the paper on his chest?"

She craned her neck. The note was addressed _Dear Shepard and Gibbs_. She ignored the false pleasantries in the first few lines, skipping ahead to a series of numbers. "Coordinates?"

"And a drop time. This is where and when they want to trade DiNozzo for their guy."

"Ten hours." Jenny rubbed her head again, promising herself that it was not going to be that long before she was collapsing into her bed.

"We'll get them back before then. And if not…" he trailed off, looking at her expectantly.

"If not, I need to start making calls now to make sure the op is ready to go on time." The coffee she grabbed from Cynthia in the lobby was half-gone by the time she was back in MTAC, but it didn't seem to be providing the second wind she'd wanted.


	13. Chapter 13

Ziva got a few more inches away from Tony. "I'm not playing this game with you."

"It's not a game and you're not giving me much to work with here." He squinted at their images projected on the laptop sitting on the desk, producing a grotesque effect on his swollen features. She was surprised he could make out anything between his puffy eyelids. "I think I look like lunchmeat. No. Lunchmeat is thinly and evenly sliced. I look like the lump of roast beef they take out of the refrigerator case and lock into the magic meat cutter."

She aimed a kick at the computer, but found she was still two feet short. Moving closer was getting more difficult as more of the sheets covering the floor bunched around the legs of her chair every time she scooted it forward.

"Roast beef sounds really good right about now. No, pastrami. On deli rye with maybe some horseradish, Swiss cheese. And a cold beer or three."

She quickly shifted her weight to prevent herself from toppling over. Just another few inches…

"Big dill pickle, coleslaw…"

She was unable to adjust her balance this time and swore as she hit the floor at an angle made more awkward by the fact that she was still tied securely to the chair.

"Ziva!"

"I'm fine! Go back to your fantasy lunch!" She kept her face turned toward the floor, needing time to compose herself. After a moment, she decided that she would only be dealing with a few more bruises. And that her arm would soon fall asleep if no one propped her chair back up.

She could hear Tony trying to shift his own chair closer to her. "Are you hurt?" When she didn't answer, he continued, "Well, I know you're hurt, but I mean, y'know…you hurt more?"

Rocking from side to side and being careful to keep her fingers out of the way as much as possible, she tipped the chair so she was lying on her back before answering, "I know. I am fine."

He chuckled. "You're like a little turtle."

"What?"

"When you rolled over. Does your head feel funny?"

She suddenly wished she was sitting erect; Tony's eyes looked unfocused, but it was difficult to be sure from her current angle. He _had_ taken several blows to the head not long before. Half an hour ago? An hour? Long enough to tell her that no one had heard her very clear message about their location, anyway, hence her decision to go after the computer. There was a chance that Safad's self-assurance had caused him to overlook something as simple as an internet connection, but she doubted it. Still, it would have been worth the effort to find out. Frustrated with her failure, she muttered, "What was I even going to do? Type with my tongue?"

Tony chuckled again, raising her level of concern for him.

"What?"

"Just thinkin' about things you do well with your tongue."

Before she could ask him how he was feeling, a voice from the doorway hissed, "Disgusting."

"Don't be so negative, Alex." Ziva turned her head to see Safad and another unwelcome presence watching from the gap in the sheets where the door was located. "Officer David has likely attempted an ill-advised escape while Agent DiNozzo demonstrates the effects of head trauma."

She narrowed her eyes as he leaned over her. "The webcam?"

"Did you really think I would allow you to remain here alone with no way of monitoring you?" Safad's arm pressed against the cut on her neck as he grasped the back of the chair and yanked her upright. "Do you know your father-in-law, or are you two meeting for the first time?"

She ignored the renewed warm trickle of blood, concentrating her attention on Alexander Nozdryov, who had seized her chin. "Hmph. Attractive enough, I suppose. Dmitri always had a weakness for women. And money. And power."

"Yup. Real winner, that guy," Tony commented.

Ziva extended her leg with the intention of tripping Nozdryov when he went for Tony, but the older man never made the move, instead continuing to inspect her. "You broke his heart before you murdered him. Do you feel any remorse for killing the man who loved you?"

"I'm right here and she hasn't killed me. Yet."

She felt the corners of her mouth turn up slightly. Tony was pressing his luck, but at least they appeared to be willing to let it go. Safad _had_ promised to trade a relatively unharmed NCIS agent for Sahrawi. She met Nozdryov's eyes. "Dmitri died the way he lived."

Nozdryov's hand tightened on her jaw. "Does that help you sleep at night, Officer David?"

"Trust me, she has no trouble sleeping. She's like a little kitten – if you define kitten as tiger on steroids."

With some effort, she turned her head toward him. "Tony…"

"Yes, listen to her, Agent DiNozzo," Safad said with a mirthless laugh. "She may be a coldblooded murderer, but she isn't stupid."

"Coldblooded, yes," Nozdryov agreed. "Did you look my son in the eye when you killed him? Did you at least give him that much?"

"He was facing me, but he wasn't looking at me." She left out that part that Dmitri's attention had been focused on strangling Tony at the time. She didn't blink as Nozdryov leaned closer. "What do you want?"

"I want you to suffer. Suffer the way you made my son suffer."

"He never told me that you two were close enough to care about revenge."

"Vengeance," Nozdryov corrected, releasing her face as he began to circle the room. "Revenge is for those who do not respect justice. I would be happy to murder your lover if Mr. Safad had not already made a deal for him."

"NCIS is not going to make that trade."

Safad laughed again. "Ah, but you were not there to see the message regarding the exchange delivered. I can assure you that it was most convincing. Hasim will surely be rewarded."

Tony suddenly piped up as Nozdryov passed him, "Aren't you supposed to be in NCIS's custody?"

"You would be shocked what an elderly drunk can accomplish after creating low expectations."

"Hey! I do that same…ugh!"

Ziva nearly tipped her chair over again as Nozdryov slapped Tony, but Safad got there first, grabbing his arm. "Not yet. You can kill him once we have Sahrawi."

"You're supposed to be trading him…" She bit back a yell as she was backhanded across the face.

"Shut up, David," Safad spat, wiping his hand on his pants. "Neither of you are returning to NCIS alive. I don't even know if anyone will be getting anything but your head, in fact." She forced her expression to remain neutral as he slipped a finger into the cut on her neck. "This was a good start. A beheading in stages will be something new for me. Come, Alex. We have other matters that require our attention."

Safad touched his finger, wet with Ziva's blood, to Tony's forehead as he passed.

She couldn't see any difference when Tony turned toward her.


	14. Chapter 14

"Suicide?"

"Try not to sound so disappointed, Jethro." Ducky paused with his hands under the dead man's stomach, making the tactile judgment that the contents would be minimal. "At least he did not arrive on our doorstep armed with an explosive device or the like."

"Would have been hard to deliver a message that way," Gibbs muttered as circled the autopsy table, glaring at the body that had appeared outside NCIS a long hour before. He finally repeated, "Suicide?"

"Yes."

"You're sure?"

Ducky began to feel annoyed by Gibbs' insistence, though he understood its source. He made an effort to soften his tone. "As reasonably sure as I can be without confirmation from the toxicology, yes. My guess would be potassium cyanide, as I found a crushed ampoule in his esophagus. A bit cliché, but effective. Abigail claimed she could smell almonds on the body, though I've found I lack the particular genetic anomaly that allows olfactory detection of…"

"Duck…"

"I don't know what you want me to tell you! This man was sent to deliver a message without offering the possibility of our discovering anything beyond what he was specifically entrusted to tell us. A human memorandum!"

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Suicide memo?"

"I suppose that's one way of putting it. Is there any indication that…"

"No."

"You could at least let me finish the question."

"We can't trade and neither can Moussad."

Ducky gave no indication that he had not been planning to ask that particular question until further in the conversation. "It that was what in the note attached to this man's body?"

"Something like that."

Deciding that it would do no good to push, he returned to his task, wielding his scalpel with practiced skill while Gibbs brooded. The work was having a pleasant, distracting effect, an effect that was being diminished by Gibbs' presence. "If there is anything here that can assist you in finding Tony and Ziva…" He trailed off. Saying their names had shattered his illusion of composure. After a deep breath, he bent over his work once again.

Gibbs continued to stand at the table, watching the proceedings. "Where's Palmer?"

"Still cataloging tissue from our other guest. Perhaps you recall earlier this morning…"

"You saying I shouldn't have passed that one off to Cassidy's team?"

"Not at all." He gave a huff of annoyance as he discovered he had failed to sever the left gastric artery. "I was just trying to make conversation."

"I don't really have time for…"

"Perhaps not, but I do sense there's something you would like to say, if you would care for the opportunity." Ducky folded his hands and rested them on the table in front of him, not shying from Gibbs' glare. If he said his piece, perhaps he would be satisfied and leave him, Ducky, to his work.

Gibbs eventually looked down at the body. "This guy came with a note for a rendezvous is in the middle of the Caribbean, probably a boat drop. I don't think they believe we would actually bring their guy, but Jen's sending SEALs and our people and Moussad to meet them. Same people that were supposed to be tracking this guy for the past few months, not that it helped," he finished bitterly.

"You don't approve of her methods in this case?"

"Like I said."

"So…" he paused as he returned to his work, setting the stomach on the scale with a wet plop, "how do we proceed?"

"We?"

"I am simply…"

"I just meant the Director doesn't seem to have that part quite figured out yet, so who knows if we'll be involved."

"You can't possibly blame…"

"The hell I can't!" Gibbs slammed his fists against the table this time, causing instruments to clatter against the cold steel. "It's her bullshit vendetta that got Ziva and DiNozzo into this mess!"

"Vendetta? I wasn't aware of any personal…"

He interrupted with a dismissive wave of his hand, "These guys killed Jen's partner a few years back."

"Ah, I see." Ducky was less surprised by the news than he should have been. It certainly made things much clearer. "And you, Jethro, would never bend the rules to avenge…"

"Don't start."

He decided the subject was best dropped and recorded the mass of the stomach before moving back to the body. "You will find them, Jethro. In fact, would it surprise you if they managed their own escape? Why they could be here now, about to walk into…"

"Gibbs!" Abby's shouted greeting from the doorway interrupted Ducky's encouragement. "Gibbs, I found him!"

Ducky dropped the liver he had picked up back into the abdominal cavity. "You found Tony?"

Abby instantly deflated. "No." Her enthusiasm was tempered when she continued, "But I found what's-his-name. Noodle-barf. He got in a cab!" She propped a laptop on the leg of the corpse, much to Ducky's chagrin. "Look, here he is getting into it outside Nationals Park. I was looking through all the traffic and security cameras around the Navy Yard, just in case I could see something and then, in this lovely still of a Corvette running a red light, I found him. He just walked a couple blocks and hailed a cab."

Ducky squinted at the grainy image, but, not having seen the man in question was unable to recognize him. Gibbs, however, demanded, "Where'd he go?"

"Okay, I enhanced the plate and called the cab company. I told them I was Director Shepard, so they didn't give me any trouble."

"Abby…"

"Kidding, they were actually very helpful." She flipped through a series of time-lapse stills from the cab's internal camera as she spoke. "So he's so convinced that he's gotten away that he actually gives the cabbie an address in Georgetown, and he…"

"Address."

"N Street, between 33rd and…"

"Goddamn it," Gibbs shouted as he sprinted toward the door, startling both Abby and Ducky, though Ducky noted that she seemed more concerned with the lack of affection after her revelation. She likely didn't recognize the address.

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Not at all, my dear." Ducky snapped a glove off in order to lay a hand on Abby's shoulder. "I believe he is just angry that this turn of events seems to have led us directly to Director Shepard's home."

* * *

"Well what _do_ we have in the area?" Jenny demanded of the third admiral she'd consulted in the past ten minutes. "I need something fast that can support my team when they arrive in…"

"Cancel the op!"

She turned to face Gibbs, thinking better of a biting retort when she saw his expression. "Agent Gibbs, I'm in the middle of…"

He made a slashing motion across his throat, which the tech inexplicably obeyed, removing the admiral's image from the screens in MTAC. "Abby found Nozdryov."

Jenny immediately lost the urge to tear into him. "Where?"

"Got into a taxi a few blocks from here. Took it to your house."

"That's not…they couldn't…"

"Probably just trying to screw with us, but…"

Jenny whipped her head around. "Cynthia! Get my weapon! Top…"

"Top left-hand drawer of your desk. Yes, Ma'am." Her assistant was out the door in a flash, followed by the tech. The whole agency would know about this in a matter of minutes.

Gibbs remained where he was, arms folded across his chest, blocking her exit. "Save the 'I-told-you-so' for later, Jethro. I hardly think this is the time for…"

"These guys don't care who they kill, Jen."

"I can take care of myself."

"Don't you have a maid? Wouldn't we have heard something from her if she…"

"Noemi is off this week, taking care of her…"

"All right. Let's go."

"Just like that?"

"Don't act so suspicious, Jen." His tone was oddly rigid in spite of his words as they walked downstairs to the bullpen. "It's your house, you know the layout and which boards creak."

"Still, you… "

"Like you said, later. We've got stuff to do now. McGee?"

McGee paused in trying to put on his bulletproof vest. "Sampson is getting the car, backup units will meet us at the Director's house."

"Didn't waste any time, did you?" Jenny accepted the vest McGee offered her and strapped it on after dropping her blazer on his desk. "Have you considered that this could be a trap or another wild-goose chase?"

"It's not."

"Jethro, you can't possibly…" She was suddenly confronted with Ziva and Tony on every plasma screen in the bullpen.

Gibbs snapped the remote a second time and the paused image came to life. "Go home, Jen."

The screens reverted to ZNN. He was suddenly whispering in her ear. "Figures Ziva would pull that."

"I…" Jenny mechanically reached for her holstered weapon as Cynthia arrived. She felt as if the nonstop supply of anger and adrenalin that had been fueling her all day was suddenly gone. Maybe she could relight the fire if only Gibbs would accuse her of making it personal, of screwing up, of killing her partner, of killing two more colleagues… No. She shook her head and moved toward the elevator, where Gibbs and McGee were waiting. This was all going to be over soon.


	15. Chapter 15

Tony wanted a painkiller, a cup of coffee and a hug, preferably in that order. Of course, as far as his captors were concerned, he could probably use a lobotomy. He wasn't feeling anywhere near as loopy as he was letting them believe, not anymore. His only regret was not telling Ziva about his…could he really call it a plan at this point? His main objective was escaping and he wasn't any closer to that than he had been before he'd become Special Agent Bozo. As far as he could see, his only accomplishment thus far was annoying everyone. Still, if he could use the lowered expectations…really, it was just like any other day, except when someone asked if he had a head injury, he could smile like a doofus and agree.

Then he could reach into Safad's chest and rip out his heart, _Temple of Doom_ style. Bastard deserved it.

Tony turned his head and squinted at Ziva, who was listening intently with her eyes closed. Ever since Nozdryov had arrived, there had been a lot more movement, maybe indicating they were about to be moved. That would be their best chance for an escape attempt, preferably an escape success. He whispered, "Is your Spidey-sense tingling?"

"Ssshhh. I thought I heard someone say 'truck' a moment ago, but they've gone upstairs."

He decided it must have been uttered in another language, audible only to dogs and Moussad-trained super spies, because he hadn't heard a thing. Back to business – getting free from his chair. The ropes binding his wrists to it were as tight as ever. There was definitely nothing in his pockets that would help him, not that he could reach his pockets. He could just wait until they untied him again. He furrowed his brow, but found that it was exceedingly uncomfortable due to his swollen, bruised face. The last time he'd been untied they'd made sure to keep a gun on Ziva until he was firmly retied. They could kill her before he got more than a swing in. He couldn't risk that, couldn't risk waiting any longer. He raised himself as high as possible and brought as much of his weight down on the seat of the chair as he could.

"What are you doing?" Ziva hissed, giving the webcam a nervous glance.

He heard a creak as he gave his chair another heavy bounce. "They sound pretty busy out there. Maybe they're not paying too much attention to us."

"I noticed that too. Perhaps they are getting ready to leave."

"Yeah, that's what I figured. I don't really feel like going with them, do you?" He gave another bounce, feeling a little more give this time.

"It is unlikely that they will take me."

"Oh, sure, they'll just leave you here alone to escape at your leisure." The wood gave another creak of protest under his effort.

"I mean that…Tony, you are useful to them. I am not."

"Yeah, how could they possibly take advantage of the Moussad Director's daughter as a hostage?"

"My father will not allow them to, and they know this. They will not allow me to leave here alive."

"No, no, no. No fatalist bullshit." He directed his anger at their situation into downward force. One or two more tries and he was going to teach this lousy chair who was the useless hunk of wood. "We're both getting out of here, hopefully before they realize what's going on."

"I think they will notice the crash if you break your chair."

He avoided a glance at her, which he was sure would not be helpful at this point. "Yeah, but not in time to stop me from…" He felt the wind knocked out of him as his wooden chair cracked, sending him to the floor in a graceless heap. "Yeah, that." Wiggling his left wrist, he found that he could almost… "Oh, yeah. Tony 1, chair 0." With his newly freed hand, he went to work on the rope still binding his right wrist to the wooden fragments.

"Hurry up."

"What, you don't think I'm…ah." He rubbed his wrists, wondering why people in the movies always did that after being untied or unhandcuffed or whatever. Hell, people he arrested did it, too. All he was feeling was additional chafing after the presence of the coarse rope for the past few hours. Ziva was probably feeling similar discomfort. He gave his wrists a final rub before turning to her. He paused as he got his first good look at the wound on her neck. "Holy…he could have…you…you should have told me he tried to slit your throat."

"He did not."

"You're not defending…?"

"No. I am simply telling you that it is not serious."

He tentatively touched the sticky blood just below the cut, remembering his earlier plan for Safad. "I'm gonna…"

"You look pretty terrible yourself, so why don't you just concentrate on untying me for now?"

"Right." He turned his obstructed rage on the knots. After helping her slip her left hand through the loosened loops of rope, he said, "I don't know how far we're gonna get with a couple of splintery chair legs. Is there any chance we might find some weapons under these sheets, you think?"

She looked at a wrist that seemed like it had made a lot more effort to get out of the ropes than either of his had. He knelt on her other side, working quietly until she said, "Jen should have something in her desk."

Tony stopped what he was doing to meet her eyes. She seemed lucid, but…he'd been playing at being brain damaged for the past few hours, so it was perfectly plausible that she'd been doing the opposite, putting on a brave face to compensate for her injuries. "You better let me handle the tough stuff. I think you've lost a little too much blood to think clearly at the moment."

"I thought you were the one who needed extra consideration."

"Hey, you know me." He tried to wink but wasn't sure he managed a visible gesture. "I'm full of surprises."

He felt her fingertips graze his forehead. "Just let me take care of my other hand and look in the desk."

"Ziva, we're not…"

"It is Jen's house!" she whispered urgently. "There will be weapons somewhere. Find them!"

She was really losing it if she thought…she hadn't breathed a word of it before now, and if they were really in Jenny's house, she would have said something to him. _Something_. Come to think of it, she had claimed that she told Gibbs where they were, but he'd figured that had just been some code he wasn't smart enough to…unless. Was it really that ridiculously simple? "You can't be…"

"Tony!"

"I'm so glad you're _my_ super spy." He pecked an unscathed spot on her temple and reluctantly stepped away as she fumbled with the ropes on her right hand. A large, dark desk appeared when he yanked the sheet off the biggest lump in the room. He had already discovered a letter opener when she appeared at his side, giving far less consideration to the Director's things than he had been. "Uh, if this is really Jenny's house you should probably…"

"Nothing," Ziva spat. "Why doesn't she have a gun in here?"

He grinned despite the situation and the pain the action caused. "Because not everyone is as well armed as you? They'd never have found all the weapons if they were holding us hostage at our place."

"Keep your voice down!"

"Sorry, I just…we've got chair bits and I found a letter opener, if that helps."

"I can assure you, it will not," a cold voice replied from the entryway. Tony tightened his grip on the letter opener as Nozdryov cocked his gun.

Safad stepped into the room behind him, looking unimpressed. "I must admit, I was expecting something like this much sooner. Alex has been so patient throughout this process that I have been feeling very anxious that he would not receive his compensation in a timely manner. And now you present an opportunity. Would you like to take a moment to say goodbye, Officer David?"

"She does not deserve…"

Safad waved him off. "Just try not to shoot Agent DiNozzo. I still need him to, erm, trade."

"Nobody will be getting shot today."

The two armed men were distracted by the unexpected announcement from behind them. Ziva gave Tony a half-smile when he glanced at her. "I told you it is Jen's house."

He didn't have a chance to reply before all hell broke loose.


	16. Chapter 16

As an automatic reflex developed through years of training, Ziva processed that Nozdryov fired first, Jen second, though she was aiming at Safad, who hadn't yet clicked the safety off either her or Tony's weapon – she wasn't sure which at this distance. She was fairly certain that further fire came from Gibbs, even if she couldn't see it. Tony had chosen that moment, with glass crashing and gunfire popping around them to jump onto Jen's desk. The moment he crossed in front of her, he jerked backwards, knocking her to the floor as he came off the desk as quickly as he'd gotten on. _Damn dramatic movie rescue_, she cursed internally as she pulled him down on top of her behind the shelter of the heavy wooden desk as more shots were fired. One of the sheets that had been covering the windows floated down to cover them as the disembodied voices of McGee and Sampson echoed further away. She clutched Tony, not wanting to let him go after so many tense hours of captivity.

"Guess we made our escape just in time." He breathed heavily into her neck and she tried to ignore the pressure on her wound there. "Would have been embarrassing if they found us tied to chairs. Not that rifling through Jenny's desk will win us any points."

Ziva sighed, unable to think of any better response. She wasn't about to complain that the experience was over, or nearly so. Footfalls, grunts and a few further gunshots moved into the foyer. Over Tony's breathing, she could hear people running up the stairs, more shouting, wet gasping. Someone likely had a sucking chest wound. There would be more urgency in the air if that someone had a badge, so she decided to ignore the sound.

Tony finally seemed to realize that he had his nose in something warm and sticky and relocated to the other side of her neck. She was content to let him stay where he was for the moment, where she couldn't see his injured face. Although she was certain he wouldn't blame her, she blamed herself. They'd been kidnapped by _her_ enemies – again. This was not going to be a fun conversation once they recovered enough to have it. She couldn't think of anything to say until Gibbs called out from somewhere across the room, "DiNozzo! David!"

She took a deep breath, made more difficult by the body on top of her, and replied, "We are here." Footsteps receded again, so she remained where she was, holding Tony under a sheet on the floor of Jen's study. Closing her eyes, she willed the past few hours to disappear. No good. She accepted that while they wouldn't be expected to process the scene, Gibbs would not simply allow them to lie on the floor indefinitely. He would probably force them to give their statements before they were allowed to get any medical attention. Or while they were getting it, depending on how quickly EMS responded.

She decided that it was time to move. The sheet was simply brushed away; Tony was not. He groaned as she tried more forcefully to push him off her. She suddenly became aware of a warm spot spreading on her abdomen. "Tony?"

"Ugh." He rolled, revealing a spreading stain their close contact had been concealing. He groaned again as he settled on his back. "You think maybe we should go to the hospital or something? Anybody call an ambulance?"

"Oh, Tony…" There was a small round tear in the center of the dark red splotch on his left side. She had an overpowering urge to try to push the blood back into his body. This was no time to panic. Keep it simple. Her focus became laser-sharp on a series of small tasks. Unbutton shirt. Find wound. Cover with…sheet. Apply pressure. Help. She needed someone to help her. "Gibbs!" He would never hear a little squeak like that. She tried again. "Gibbs!"

Her plea was met by a gurgling cough. "Still…alive, David?"

That was definitely not Gibbs. She ignored it and repeated her call, as loudly as possible. Tony smiled up at her. "Relax. I'm fine. You should see a doctor."

"Shhhh."

"Really, you're bleeding." She readied herself to brush his hand away from her neck, but his arm flopped back to the floor. "Whoa. I'm really tired all of a sudden."

Pressing with both hands, she tried to convince herself that the sheet wasn't starting to soak through. "Help is coming. Just stay with me."

"'m always with you."

She glanced in the direction of another gurgle from across the room, but the desk blocked her view. Perhaps it was a poor attempt at laughter. She was in no mood for it. "Save your breath, Safad. It sounds limited."

He was definitely laughing. "Your con…cern…is…touching."

"My only concern is that you will not suffer more."

"And…they…call me…the terrorist."

She returned her full attention to Tony. The blood flow seemed to be slowing. Unless there was just so much of it that she couldn't…

"What're you yelling about, David? We're trying to secure prisoners."

She nearly cried with relief as Gibbs' voice approached. "Tony has been shot, we need…"

"Paramedics are en route."

She leaned back as far as she dared while still keeping both hands on the sheet bunched over Tony's wound. "How long?"

Gibbs stepped over the still-gurgling Safad and crossed the room to her. "Soon. How is he?"

"I'll be fine, boss." Tony smiled weakly and tried to push himself up. "Need me to sketch the scene?"

"We'll let it pile up on your desk while you're out." Gibbs crouched and gently pushed him back down. "What do think, five days? Six?"

Alarmed, Ziva was about to interrupt when she realized that Tony's smile had gotten wider. "If you think you can live without me around the office that long."

"Nah, you'd just expect everyone to wait on you hand and foot. Stay home and let Ziva deal with you."

"Oh, hey, she probably won't tell you, but she needs a doctor. She's bleeding."

"Well, I hear sirens. They'll take care of her."

"Better make it an order, boss. She's stubborn."

Ziva didn't bother to argue. She could hear McGee answering the door to let the EMTs into the house. Safad was no longer making any noise. She was glad. They would step over him as Gibbs had done and take care of Tony immediately. Gibbs' hand covered hers, but didn't apply more pressure. He guided her away as the EMTs went to work. She didn't make too much of an effort to step over Safad's body in the doorway. He may have gasped quietly when she crushed his fingers under her heel, but she said nothing. She could hear Tony trying to joke with McGee and the paramedics.


	17. Chapter 17

Sampson paced around Director Shepard's house, waiting for someone to give him some kind of instruction. Dr. Mallard and his assistant had not yet arrived to clear the bodies in the study and the one in the upstairs hall, and it was unlikely they would be in any hurry, given that the time and circumstances of the men's deaths were clearly established. Agent Gibbs and the Director had left to take the two surviving terrorists, untreated bullet grazes and all, back to NCIS almost an hour before. Agent McGee had followed Agent DiNozzo and Officer David to the hospital shortly before that. Sampson was stuck by himself with no idea how to proceed beyond not screwing up by moving anything. The two uniformed officers from Metro assigned to help him keep the scene secure seemed equally at a loss as to what they should be doing. They had settled for guarding the front door from the porch.

He pulled out his phone as he walked upstairs to check yet again that he was the only living thing in the house and called the only person he thought could help him.

"Yes?"

"Cynthia, I…"

"George, I'm sure you know it's a little crazy right now and I don't really have time to…"

"No, I…I mean, I _would_ call you just to talk but…" He made a quick hop to the side to avoid a marked shell casing. One of the few things he known to do for sure was note each casing he'd found; he'd also sketched the study and hallway where the bodies were. "I'm just at Director Shepard's house and I don't really know what else to do until…well, until someone lets me know what else I should do. I don't even have a camera besides the one on my cell phone and I think it's full."

Something that sounded like an airplane passing on Cynthia's end cut off the first few words of her reply, "…is coming up from Norfolk to handle…didn't anyone call to update you?"

"I think they forgot about me, actually." He leaned against a wood-paneled wall after carefully checking it for blood splatter. "More important things happening." He heard nothing but a car motor for several seconds on the line. "Cynthia?"

"George, I'm really sorry, but Director Shepard sent me to Andrews to meet Ziva's father, who probably hasn't been told what's happened yet because he's been in the air and…I think that's his team now! I'll call you later!"

He said, "Bye," to a buzz of static.

Resuming his aimless pacing, which strategically avoided more than a glimpse of the corpse upstairs, Sampson wondered if the terrorists had felt as awkward as he did in the director's bedroom. Probably not, considering they'd taken over her house and used it as a hideout. Besides, he wasn't here to snoop, he was just doing his job, making sure they hadn't missed anything. Quick sweep, peek in the closets, under the bed, in the bathroom, behind the shower curtain, – he couldn't remember checking there before…because if he had, he probably wouldn't have forgotten to mention this particular detail. He briefly wondered who to call before deciding that the Metro cops should be informed first.

He kicked at least one shell casing out of position as he rocketed down the front staircase, shouting, "Bomb! Bomb!"

* * *

Abraham David signaled vaguely with his left hand as he exited the airport hangar into the cool night air, prompting one of his security personnel to hand him a long wool coat. He nodded his thanks. His team had satisfied him – not only had they managed an invitation to land at a US military facility rather than a commercial airport, but they had kept him apprised of all movements on the ground while en route. He was already aware, for example, that Ziva had been safely conveyed to a hospital with minor injuries – a circumstance that had put him considerably more at ease – and that Director Shepard was too busy to meet him in person. He walked toward a woman whose Social Security number he could recite, if need be. He extended his hand. "Cynthia, I believe?"

"Yes, Director David. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Welcome to Washington. Well, Maryland, but…I'm sure you're eager to…er…"

"Perhaps you could update me on the situation on the way to NCIS, yes?"

She seemed more nervous when he stated his intentions for their destination. "Of course. We'll be riding in the limo and your team can partner with agents in the SUVs, if that's all right?"

"Excellent. Hannah, Dagan, with me. The rest of you…" He used the same gesture that had gotten him his coat a few minutes ago and the team divided without a word. Again, it was what was to be expected of Moussad operatives. He settled himself in the rear seat of the limo with a nod to a man in a suit sitting close beside the driver. "So, Cynthia. I believe you are acquainted, at least by telephone, with my assistant, Hannah. And this is Officer Eyal Dagan, a trusted agent and close friend of Ziva's."

He waited for the pleasantries to be concluded before nudging the conversation along. "I take it that all was resolved at Director Shepard's home?"

Cynthia nodded and pressed a button to raise the divider that isolated the passengers' compartment. "Faiz Safad and Alexander Nozdryov were killed at the scene, along with another unidentified man. Two others are in custody at NCIS, pending identification."

"I see." He folded his hands and waited silently as they passed through a security checkpoint.

"I believe Director Shepard mentioned that Moussad would be allowed to interrogate the prisoners…at some point, probably not at the Navy Yard, and…"

"Relax, Cynthia. Do not feel as if you have to be responsible for Shepard's decisions. I will discuss it with her when I see her shortly." He tried to be as offhand as possible as he asked first for a bottle of water from the small refrigerator, then, "Tell me, what do you know of my daughter's condition?"

"As far as I know, Ziva has minor wounds that are being treated in the ER."

He covered his long exhalation with a feigned sip of water. "And Tony? Is he in good health?"

"Last I heard, they were taking him to surgery."

He nodded gravely. "So it is serious."

"Sorry I don't know more."

"Quite all right. We shall find out more in due time." In spite of his concern, he maintained his undisturbed air. They had been riding in silence for some time before he said, "So, Cynthia. You have worked for Shepard for some time?"

"Er, since she took the job as Director of NCIS."

"You must be good at your job to have kept it for so long. A good assistant is worth her or his weight in gold." He ignored Hannah's muttered Hebrew rebuttal. He continued to make useless small talk. "You are not married, Cynthia?"

"No. No, not yet."

"Ah, you have someone in mind."

"Well…"

"Forgive me. It is not my place." At a subtle gesture from Dagan, he glanced out the darkly tinted window. "I believe we are almost to the Navy Yard."

Cynthia looked outside. "Yes, sir. You know your way around Washington."

"Indeed."

* * *

Gibbs folded his arms and squinted through the one-way glass at one of the two survivors from the shootout. The man was sitting at the table in Interrogation, picking at the gauze bandage wrapped around his forearm. It had been a long, trying day and for once in his life, Gibbs had no interest in concluding it by breaking a suspect. He leaned his elbow against one of the shelves of recording equipment and wondered why DiNozzo seemed to find the position so comfortable. "He's not gonna say anything."

"Not to us, no," Jen agreed. She jerked her head across the room toward the other interrogation room. "He won't talk either."

The edge of the shelf was starting to dig into him. "You don't seem too upset about that."

"They're nobodies. As far as I'm concerned, Moussad can have them."

"Are you kidding?"

"Safad is dead; Sahrawi is in custody. As far as I'm concerned, this is over."

"That your official stance?"

Her eyebrows contracted hard as she turned to him. "Official, unofficial, casual watercooler gossip – all of it. Over. Done."

"Jen, there's an active crime scene at your house right now…"

"Cleanup. We already know what happened. Once everything is…"

"I think there's a few too many people involved for you to wave a magic wand and make everyone forget what happened, and I don't just mean over the past twenty-four hours." He followed her abrupt departure from Observation. "Hey! You can't just walk away from…"

She whirled on him. "I know! Don't you think I know that without your goddamn self-righteous…" She was cut off as she snapped open her ringing phone. "What! Oh, Cynthia, I'll be right up."

Gibbs was ready to continue arguing, but his own phone rang just as Jen was hanging up. "Yeah, Gibbs."

"Agent Gibbs, it's Sampson. I found a bomb in the bathroom at Director Shepard's house."

He brought a hand to his eyes and rubbed tiredly. "Are you joking?"

"No, sir. The bomb squad is on its way, but is there anything that…"

"Just hold things down until…" Gibbs looked over his shoulder and broke into a jog. The elevator doors closed on his hand before opening again. Jen scowled at him. He pretended that he hadn't seen it and turned his attention back to his phone. "Sampson, don't let anyone in until the bomb squad clears the place. The whole place."

"Should I…?"

"Stay outta there until you get an all clear. The last thing I need is another team member in the hospital." He tucked his phone back into his pocket and stared at the elevator doors as it rose.

As expected, Jen didn't last more than a few seconds. "Well?"

"Well what?"

She reached across him and shut down the elevator. "I know Sampson is still at the scene. Why were you talking to him about a bomb squad?"

"I thought we weren't talking about this anymore?"

"What do you want me to say? That I screwed up when I made it personal?"

"That would be a start."

He had almost readied himself for a slap across the face when her hand moved to the button to restart the elevator. "You are such a hypocrite."

"Maybe, but I'm not the director."

Jen sighed. "Are you going to tell me why the bomb squad is at my house?"

"Sampson said he found something in a bathroom."

She muttered under her breath, "Maybe a good explosion is what this whole thing needs."

Gibbs pretended not to have heard. He could wait out another confrontation until after he'd found out how his people were faring at the hospital. "I'll check in with Sampson in person on my way to University Hospital and let you know what's going on."


	18. Chapter 18

McGee tried vainly to press the already soaked towel to the side of Ziva's neck as she bulled her way through the hospital, ignoring his every attempt to get her to return to the ER. After refusing any treatment until establishing that Tony had been sent to the OR for his gunshot wound, Ziva had been shunted to a bed in the corner after her injuries had been judged non-life-threatening. McGee had his doubts – she was certainly making him fear for his life. It was his own fault; bribing her to sit still by giving her his SIG had the potential to be the concluding action of his career. At least letting her hold it had brought him an extra half hour of employment, even if she'd dripped blood onto the grip from her wrist while the ER staff had dealt with victims from a multi-car collision. If only he'd thought to take out the clip…

He was brought back to the moment when he almost lost his grip on the bloody towel as she made a sharp turn around a corner. "Ziva, I really don't think you should…"

Her only response was to yank the towel from his hand and drop it on the floor.

"That's really not sanitary…" He hurried to keep up with her increased pace, almost knocking her down when they hit a dead end at an elevator bank. "Can I at least find you, um, a wheelchair or something?"

"Why are there no signs? Shouldn't a hospital have signs?"

He fought back a grin. She almost sounded like Tony. "I think they only put up signs for things people don't have to be escorted to." He firmly grasped her upper arm and tried to pull her in the direction an ER sign was pointing. "Or something like that."

"I am not trying to find the secret doctors' break room!" She jerked out of his grip with depressingly little effort. "I would simply like to find the operatory to get an update."

"Operatory? You mean the OR?"

"Semantics, McGee? Really?"

He cowered for a moment as she turned in a circle, briefly aligning the barrel of his weapon with his chest. "Hey, I've got an idea. Why don't we go back to the ER and once you've gotten some stitches we can get directions to the OR? Maybe Tony will even be ready for visitors by then."

Hearing his name seemed to galvanize her. "This way." McGee had to do a lot of badge-flashing to keep the people they met in the halls calm.

Ten minutes later they were sitting in a quiet lounge with a single older woman, who went back to her knitting after a few wary looks. McGee had managed to get a few rolls of gauze from a woman at a desk they'd passed. Ziva was again permitting him to put some pressure on her wounds, though she didn't seem to be bleeding anymore. She still wouldn't give back his SIG, though.

He decided it was worth one last try. "I really think you'd be better off…"

"Did you not bring a book, McGee?"

"I…my phone as an app for…oh." He gave up on his efforts at triage and leaned back in his chair. It had been a long, stressful day. Sure, not as long for him as it had been for Tony and Ziva, but still… The click of knitting needles was almost hypnotic. The adrenaline rush of a firefight really left you drained afterward. He closed his eyes, just to rest for a moment.

* * *

Ziva was only minimally regretful regarding her treatment of McGee, a feeling that would soon pass if he continued to snore. What did he have to be so tired about? Well, chasing her kidnappers around the city, but… He shifted in his seat, jarring her injured wrist, and any sympathy she may have been developing drained away very quickly. She tugged the bloody gauze from his hands and walked toward the trash can under the television mounted in the corner. When McGee awoke, she was going to be nicer to him, perhaps return his weapon; he was attempting to take care of her, after all.

In the meantime, she took a seat two down from where he was now leaning into the neighboring seat, mouth slightly open as he took what she was sure was a well-earned nap. It was going to be awhile before she was comfortable enough to sleep. It didn't help the McGee was right – she should have been in the ER, not stalking around the hospital terrifying people. She hadn't had a chance to look in a mirror yet, but she was sure it wouldn't be a pleasant experience. After a moment's hesitation, she stood and looked around the room. This hospital really needed to work on its signage.

She turned to the only other conscious person in the room. "Excuse me, could you tell me if there is a restroom around here?"

"Just down the hall on your right, dear."

"Thank you." Ziva realized she hadn't been to the bathroom since Safad had escorted her to the one at Jen's house earlier in the day and walked faster, passing the mirror over the sink in favor of the stall. She had no holster for McGee's SIG, so she balanced it on the toilet paper holder. Poor gun safety. She made doubly sure that the safety was on before pushing the muzzle into her pocket as she kicked the handle to flush the toilet.

Nothing to do now but… She was surprised security hadn't been summoned to drag her off when she caught her first glimpse of herself in the mirror. It also explained why McGee had been so concerned about keeping her in the ER. She'd forgotten she even had a laceration on her forehead – that was from when they'd been knocked out that morning by her car. Still, it looked minor compared to her neck. She watched the muscles move as she turned her head to get a better view. It was fortunate Safad hadn't cut deeper.

She glanced down at her wrist. The paramedics had removed the bandage that Safad had wrapped around it earlier in the day. Of everything that had occurred, that stood out in her mind. Their hands had been tied up out of sight every time they had appeared on video, so it couldn't have been for show. And he had been oddly considerate when wrapping it... She caught herself just before splashing water on her face. She opted instead for a damp paper towel to clean off some of the dried blood on her forehead; she left her neck alone. There was nothing to be done about her bloodstained shirt, short of throwing it away.

She was still thinking about her wrist when she resumed her seat in the waiting room. After a few minutes, the woman in the across the room cleared her throat. "Not to be a bother, dear, but I feel that I should tell you this is the family waiting room for the operating room. I believe the ER is on the first floor."

"My fiancé was shot," Ziva stated, feeling more blunt than usual.

"Well, I'm very sorry to hear that." The woman was still eying her warily. "You weren't the one to shoot him, by any chance, were you dear?"

For the first time since McGee had given her his SIG, she had forgotten that she was armed. "No." She unclipped her badge from her belt and held it up. "We are federal agents."

"So you're allowed to have that gun there?"

McGee mumbled, "She spent the day kidnapped and she's still a little paranoid."

Ziva ignored him. "You are not in any danger. It simply makes me feel better."

The woman held up two knitting needles. "I know the feeling. I wouldn't be able to get through my Arthur's surgeries without something to keep me busy."

"Arthur is your husband?"

"No, dear, my son. Well, his father was also Arthur, may he rest in peace. He never got to the point of needing surgeries. Heart attack almost twenty years ago, now. No, Arthur – my son, I mean – has had digestive troubles. He thinks if he calls it that I won't realize it's colon cancer, but…it's good to be here for him."

"I hope that he…"

A young man in green scrubs suddenly bounced into the doorway of the waiting room and interrupted the conversation, "Hey, anyone here with DiNozzo?"

Ziva shot out of her seat, closely followed by McGee. "Yes, is he all right?"

"Wow, you're a mess!" The doctor ran a hand over his shaved head. "Shouldn't you be seeing a doctor yourself?"

"Tell us how Tony is doing first."

"Come on down to the consult room." He didn't give them a chance to get a word in edgewise as he led them to a small room. "Aw, locked! Well, anyway, just got out of surgery with your DiNozzo guy. Man, it was the coolest thing I've ever seen! The bullet came in here," he pointed to a spot on his left side, "and bam! Right through his spleen, then bounced off a rib and came back to finish the job before lodging in the intercostals. Didn't touch another organ in there! Course, you can bleed to death from a ruptured spleen, and that thing was absolutely _destroyed_, so…"

As he continued to speak, Ziva had found the grip of the SIG. It was just about to come out of her pocket when someone shouted, "Dr. Oliveira! What have I told you about speaking with patients' families?"

"Oh, Dr. Kahn! The, uh, consulting room was locked, so I was just giving these people an update on…I'll just be going, then!"

The severe looking woman, Dr. Kahn, softened when the young man disappeared around the corner. "I apologize for my intern. He is a talented surgeon, but lacks empathy. And people skills. My hope is that he'll pick some up. Shall we sit and discuss Mr. DiNozzo's condition?"

Ziva was getting close to the end of her patience. "Is he okay?"

"He's in recovery right now. We had to remove a portion of his spleen, but he has an excellent prognosis. We'll likely keep him in the ICU for several days to monitor for complications, but aside from some superficial injuries, he is in excellent health."

She tuned out the rest of the doctor's explanation, holding onto the most important thing – Tony was going to be fine. All she needed now was proof. She interrupted something about transfusions to ask, "Can I see him now?"

"No, he won't be able to have any visitors for at least an hour. And then we can only allow brief visits from family. I know how close many in law enforcement are, but…"

"Tony and I are engaged. Can I see him?"

"As I said, he can't have visitors for an hour. And you won't be allowed into the ICU in that condition. I'll have an orderly escort you downstairs for treatment."

"I think we can…"

McGee was the one to interrupt this time. "Yes, thank you."

As they followed a woman down the corridor a few minutes later, an unexpected voice caused Ziva to stop short. "Ziva!"

She turned slowly to make sure she wasn't hearing things. "Abba, what are you…?"

He arrived amid a swarm of dark suits to envelope her in a hug. "Why are you not receiving medical attention?"

"I did not want to wait until…"

"Tony will not feel better if he wakes to find you suffering! Come, where must you go?"

She spent the next hour feeling much better than she had all day, though she wasn't sure how much could be attributed to the fact that her father held her hand through an interminable number of stitches.


End file.
